


The Perfect Ending

by tonystarktrash



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) - Fandom, Civil War (Marvel) - Fandom, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amputation, Angst, Battle of New York (Marvel), Body Horror, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Catholic Guilt, Civil War (Marvel), Dark, Death, Decapitation, Drowning, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, F/M, Fake Science, Fix-It, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, I'm Bad At Tagging, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, LOTS OF SPOILERS, Loss of Limbs, Maria Stark's A+ Parenting, Non-Canonical Character Death, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Religious Guilt, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tony-centric, Torture, Virtual Reality, Waterboarding, and it's not even decent fake science it's Fake Science, and lots of, and the maria stark one is not ironic i fuckign love maria stark, angst and death, but really not a fix it, drug overdose, guess what there's a happy chapter, he's not gonna use the goddamn cellphone, mentions of science bros but its platonic, rhodey being the best best friend of all time, sort of, this is really fucked up i acknowledge it, this is the fic you are looking for, tony doing the only thing he thinks he knows how to do: tinkering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarktrash/pseuds/tonystarktrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t need to fix the present, he needed to fix the past, forever changing the future. The easiest way to do that was to remove himself from the equation, from existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Despite Steve’s belief that the Avengers Compound was a better alternative than Tony Stark “rattling around in an empty mansion”, he was now rattling around in an Avengers Compound that had been built on a foundation of trust and support – and now rested on one of grief and uncertainty. Maybe that was worse than an empty mansion. Not to mention the Vision sized crater that went more than a mile down through the floor of the lounge, that had rocked the foundations _a little bit_. Tony sat at the desk in his office, watching as the on-hold light blinked an insistent red, it was soothing though, that little light. Something to match his breathing to. Quite frankly, Tony wasn’t ready to get up and travel to the Raft, to see the empty cells and unconscious guards. He wanted a break – no, he _needed_ a break. Secretary Ross wouldn’t wait on hold for long.

“Tough shit,” Tony grunted to himself, picking up the godforsaken flip phone that had been sent to him from Captain America himself (Priority Mail, too, what a big spender) -- or whatever he was calling himself without the shield. As if a letter and a fucking Nokia would fix everything between them – as if _you can call on me any time you need me_ changed the fact that had Tony not raised his arms, the shield would have severed his head from his neck.

It haunted him when he closed his eyes to sleep, the shield was always coming down, cold metal against warm flesh for a fraction of a second before it was all over. Before his racing heart pumped out blood that stained the snow crimson, crimson to match Steve’s shield. The flip phone crunched loudly as Tony’s hand clenched into a fist around it (not that he was concerned, it was a fucking _Nokia_ ). He wasn’t going to be calling Steve anytime soon. No, he would take what was left of the Avengers into whatever battle called and damn the consequences. Damn the phone. Damn Steve Rogers.

The hold light was still blinking as Tony left the desk, moving downstairs to the workshop that no one really inhabited aside from himself now that Bruce was gone. His sore muscles screamed in protest halfway down the stairs, causing Tony to brace his arm against the wall for a moment, the railing dug into his side. Just a moment of weakness, in private. He’d shown too much weakness in the past week, _Christ, what would Dad say?_

His parents. Tony’s eyes closed slowly, wanting to prevent the tears that he knew were bound to well up. His mother. Strangled. The very life choked out of her, and Steve had _known_. Tony could not forgive that, could never forgive that. He had been blinded by rage upon seeing the footage, had been intent on killing Barnes – the man who strangled Maria Stark while her slender, bloodied fingers (fingers that had been so skilled at lulling him to sleep by dancing gracefully across the keys of her grand piano) spasmed in her lap. The bloodlust was gone now, the need for revenge had faded. He knew that Barnes had been unable to control himself, understood that. But that did not mean that Tony had to forgive Steve for lying to him. Steve, who been _disappointed_ in Tony (not angry, just disappointed) for keeping his work on Ultron a secret, for selective truth telling. For lying. It wasn’t the same, Tony knew that – but God, he was bitter. A bitterness that rose up in his throat like gorge.

Once he was steady, Tony’s right hand came up to rub at his left shoulder after he had slid the phone ( _fuck the phone_ ) into his pocket. The arm had been troubling him since the whole mess had begun, numb for the most part, and then burning hot agony every few nights. Right now, it was tingling, which was a new symptom. Tony Stark: a laundry list of character defects now accompanied by a laundry list of physical defects. He was getting old, a major fear of his as a 20-something year old, now just a fact of life. _Hello, top of the hill. I’ve brought my sled with me, I’m ready to race to the bottom._

The lights of the workshop came to life without hesitation as Tony moved inside, dress shoes clicking loudly against the smooth floor. The shining workbenches were covered with circuitry, loose wires, and hunks of metal. Everything was gathering dust, except for the pair of glasses and attached wires that sat on the desk Tony had claimed for himself, alongside piles of blueprints. It was not like he was facing much competition in the race for the best seat in the workshop. Sitting down in the chair, Tony’s eyes were drawn to the shield that had been set in the far corner of the workshop. Out of sight out of mind, except for that fact that Tony always found himself staring at it. He’d filled in the long gouges left by Black Panther’s claws, had washed away his own blood from the metal, had scrubbed at the blast marks until his hands were red and raw. Then, he had painstakingly repainted the shield until it was in pristine condition. He had every intention of putting it in Howard Stark’s archives – along with FDR’s pens that Steve had barely considered. Tony’s olive branch had been snapped in two, and he was damned if he was ever going to offer it up again. But, he was too busy to go down to the archives. He had two projects on the table, and one on hold.

The first on the table was getting Rhodey to walk again. They had begun with an exoskeleton for his legs, but that had involved lots of wires and electrodes so that the machinery would move when Rhodey’s neurons told it to. That was working fine, but Tony wanted to improve it, he wanted to take that tech and put it inside of Rhodey’s legs instead of on the outside. That meant learning a bit about the spinal cord, and Rhodey would have to undergo another surgery to implant the devices, but Tony was definitely making progress. The second project correlated with the one on hold. Tony reached out and picked up the glasses, putting them on but ignoring the dangling wires as he spun the chair to stare at the dusty machinery scattered along the workbenches.

He had brought it in boxes from the Avengers Tower, the only bit of tech that remained of his and Bruce Banner’s collaboration. Ultron had been a complete bust, but before he had even come to be, Tony and Bruce had been juggling with a different idea. The idea had started out as a joke over some Chinese food and had developed into a potential reality. Time travel, they both enjoyed science fiction and both loved the idea of time travel. They both had things they wanted to fix in the past, things about their histories. So, they had drawn up the plans, worked on the math, bickered about the size of the tech (Tony wanted it to be a headset, Bruce said that would be impossible). In the blink of an eye, Bruce was gone and the project was at a standstill. So, to take his mind off of it, Tony had developed virtual reality technology (in a headset form, very possible). Aside from a rather devastating headache that came with use, it was perfect. Perfect for experimenting with different situations – situations that could be resolved with time travel. It offered Tony the ability to test his ideas without consequence, and after the Advil had stopped working, he’d gotten himself a nifty little prescription of Oxycodone.

Why had he come down here? Tony frowned, considering the question before remembering the bulky phone in his pocket. With a scowl, he pulled the phone out of his pocket, gave it one last withering glare, before shoving it in a desk drawer that was littered with pens, pencils, packs of gum, and airplane approved tiny bottles of liquor. The glittering glass caught his eye and he tore the cap off a bottle of Dewar’s before downing it. There, that made him feel better about the cell phone. Well… maybe just one more bottle. Before he knew it, Tony was more than a little buzzed. _Those bottles added up fast, plus they were so cute_.

Spinning around in his chair, Tony tried to relax. The workshop was his church, where he fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness until his hands bled and he passed out from exhaustion. _How am I going to fix this?_ Wrong again, and again, and again. Rhodey had tried to shift the blame – God bless him, Rhodey was his best friend and knew exactly how Tony was going to react – but that still didn’t change the fact that Rhodey had been fighting for Tony, alongside him, as his brother. The Avengers were irreparably broken; superheroes were treated with fear and disrespect. _Not that I deserve respect…_ It seemed that every time Tony fell to his knees, his God of futurism and innovation wrought punishment instead of benevolence.

“What am I supposed to do?” He asked the shield, asking both his father and maybe Steve (though he would never admit that). “Every time I try to do good, it turns to shit… I can’t trust myself, I can’t… I can’t _fix_ this.” Tony reached up to rub his shoulder, and instead moved the wires of the glasses that were scratching uncomfortably at his jaw.

It struck him then, almost as heavy as the realization that Steve had been about to kill him with Howard Stark’s shield. He didn’t need to fix the present, he needed to fix the past, forever changing the future. The easiest way to do that was to remove himself from the equation, from existence. He’d had a close brush with death almost every year of his life since announcing himself as Iron Man (and some before that, too). Why not go back in time and die when he was supposed to die, preventing every event – every death that had occurred at his hand? The time travel project was at a standstill… the virtual reality tech, however, was not. He could take each vivid memory of his near death experiences and change them – _no, fix them_ by giving them the outcome they were supposed to have. Going through each one provided him pros and cons of each death, and gave him some retrospection.

“FRIDAY, new project. On my own servers please. No password needed, don't think anyone’s going to snuffle around.”

“Sure boss, d’you have a title for it?”

Tony managed to draw his gaze away from the shield and instead stared at the bruises on his hands, a wry smile forming on his face. “Sure, call it Fifty First Deaths. Start it off with a voice recording, please.”

“Recording whenever you’re ready.”

“The purpose of this project – Jesus, I’m sloshed --,” Tony cleared his throat, and there was that tingling in his arm again. “The purpose of this project is to decide which lovely lady, and by lady I mean terrible death, is right for me. And the rest of the world, I guess. By dying, I should be able to prevent events such as The Battle of New York, uh… is that its official title? If I decide not to die until after throwing the nuke up, well, maybe it'll still prevent Sokovia, Washington D.C. Hell, a lot of deaths. It’ll make the world a better place, the future a brighter one to live in, instead of the shit one I’ve set up for myself. The technology for actually bringing about these changes is still in development, so I’m just going to be simulating each event and the outcome. My reason for recording them… well, maybe I’m just a morbid fuck, I don’t know.” Tony pushed the glasses up with his hands so he could press his palms against his eyes, slowing his breathing to prevent himself from descending into the panic that was threatening to drag him down into dark depths that he would have to claw himself out of. “I’m recording the deaths so that I can fully analyze the effects of each and make the right decision, for once. I guess we’ll start off with a doozy, the afternoon of December 17th, 1991. The day after my parents died.”


	2. Chapter 2

If there was one thing that stayed constant in Tony Stark’s life, it was the fact that he was very particular about his hair. After realizing that he would need to use electrodes for his glasses to be able to interact with his hippocampus for long periods of time, he had painstakingly shaved away circles of his hair in places that could be covered up. No need for the press to wonder why the hell Tony Stark had polka dotted his scalp. Grimacing in preparation for the headache that would leave him wracked in agony, Tony connected the electrodes to each spot on his head. _Might as well go whole hog and shave my head à la Britney Spears. This would be less of a goddamned hassle, plus, it’s not like anyone’s running their fingers through my hair, now that Pepper’s gone._ No, he **couldn’t** think of Pepper. He was feeling low enough already. Tired eyes blinked behind the blue lenses of the glasses as his memory took form, using the workshop as a set. _My magnum opus._

“Are we recording? _Christ_ , what a mess.”

“Recording now.”

* * *

Tony Stark was sprawled across the cluttered floor of his bedroom, having managed to prop himself up against the end of his bed. He nursed a nearly empty bottle of his father’s favorite Scotch against his chest ( _not that favorites matter anymore, dear old dead Dad won’t be able to tell a fucking bird from a bottle_ ), his brown eyes had glossed over once he’d drunk half the bottle. That had been ages ago.

He had been the one to confirm their identities, to stand in that freezing room and stare at the bloody couple arranged on separate metal slabs, the one who had to open his mouth and choke out a yes. Tony’s shaking fingers had run over his mother’s lips, still colored red from her lipstick – the lips that felt so warm against his cheek the day before. Now his parents were nothing, tissue and flesh soon to be buried. There was no warmth in Maria Stark’s eyes, though Tony had searched desperately for some fragment of his mother within them. She couldn’t be dead, she _couldn’t be dead._

A whine escaped Tony as he rocked against the hard wood of the bedframe, the bottle slipping down his chest and into his lap. After his visit to the hospital morgue, his best friend had greeted him at his car, ready to drive him home. Rhodey had been concerned, Tony could see it in his eyes, even as he assured his old college roommate that he would be fine in the manor alone. Jarvis was making the funeral arrangements, and had asked Rhodey to spend the day with Tony. Rhodey was more than willing, but Tony brushed him off. _It’s fucking Christmas, after all._ Tony didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to disrupt Rhodey’s holiday – but really, he didn’t want his best friend to see him for what he truly was:  _a vulnerable, weak, **lost**  child. _Well, if that wasn’t Howard Stark speaking, Tony would be damned.

Howard. They had parted on bad terms – though when were they not on bad terms? – and Tony found the sharp knife of guilt impossible to evade. Instead, he allowed it to plunge into his chest over and over again, until the blood on his hands became impossible to wash away.  _If I’d talked to them just a little longer, delayed them just a little more, maybe they wouldn’t have wrecked the car._ And Howard’s _head_ , that brain of his that had been praised across the world, well… he was missing more than half of it, he hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt. _Like Mamma would let him even start the goddamned car without it._ But maybe she had been distracted – it didn’t matter. They were both dead, the proof was in the surveillance footage, which he had watched over and over, blinking away his tears. If he had just talked to them a little _longer._ If he had apologized to his father, for what he didn’t know, but if he had _just_ apologized…

Tony pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids until he saw stars, which reminded him of when… It had been a bit of an adrenaline rush, he’d gone into Boston late at night a few weeks past with the intention of picking up some type of drug – cocaine, heroin, meth, he wasn’t picky. Why? For the hell of it, really. Tony had never pictured himself as someone who used drugs, but the very idea of Howard discovering his son possessing black tar heroin made him grin. _Give me a drug test, Pops_ , he would smarm, and Howard would fume over the negative results. He would still be punished, sure, but he would get to waste some of Howard Stark’s precious time (or cause Howard to actually devote some time to his son…). That had never happened. That would never happen. _What a fucking stupid idea, anyway._

Lurching on his hands and knees, Tony crawled across the room to his closet, he always kept it orderly (the rest of his room, not so much). There they were, the brown Armani dress shoes his mother loves – loved – he polished them himself so that they were always ready for special occasions. His true reason for doing it himself was to prevent his mother from rooting around in the tip of the left shoe (not that she would, who reached their hands into shoes anyways?). No, if he was going to get busted, it would be by his own design – Tony would leave it out in plain sight for Howard to find. _There's no point in hiding it now_. Tony withdrew a baggie from the shoe in question, looking at the black, rather disgusting lump with a bit of disdain. _I probably got charged out the ass for this, too._ Tony always kept the shoeboxes for his shoes, and they were stacked up against the back wall of the closet, just in case he ever needed to return an ill-fitting pair – but really because they made excellent hiding places. Staggering to his feet, he knocked over a tower of shoeboxes when he swung his hand out to grip the wall for support. A syringe landed on the carpeted floor at his feet, while a band of elastic fluttered lazily through the air like an electric green butterfly before coming to rest beside the syringe. Feeling nauseous from all the movement ( _and the booze, Tone, don’t forget the booze_ ), Tony bent down and grabbed the syringe and elastic with his free hand. _Got all the supplies, dumbass?_ No, not quite.

Tony emerged from the closet and walked over to his dresser, on top of which sat a half eaten bowl of cereal that Jarvis had given him that morning. Snatching up the spoon, Tony ran it over his shirt to clean off the last remnants of Lucky Charms and milk.

His protesting stomach thanked him as he settled back on the floor, lining up the spoon, baggie, syringe, and elastic next to his thigh. _Two things left, and then I guess we’re blasting off._ Tony grabbed the water bottle that sat on his nightstand, before yanking open its drawer roughly. Without sitting up, his hand blindly scrabbled along the inside of the drawer, pushing aside condoms and lube until he found what he was looking for – a Bic lighter he had purchased just because lighting it gave his hands something to do when he was anxious. _Plus, it looks cool._

_There, now you’ve got everything. Let’s get this **party** started. _ He didn’t know what being high would do for him, but at the very least it would allow him to drift away for a little bit, right? Maybe it would let him forget that everything had gone to shit, that he would never see his mother again.

Tony pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, tying the elastic band loosely around his arm, figuring it was best to get that out of the way before his hands were shaking too much to be of any help.

            _What are you doing, tesoro?_

He jolted, looking around his room with wild eyes, desperate to see the woman who had just spoken so loudly in his ear. It was like she was standing in the room with him, watching him. _Mamma._

She wasn’t there, no matter how much he wanted her to be. Fame and fortune could not bring her back. Fame and fortune had procured the car she had died in. But her voice, it had been strong and clear. It had been real. His eyelids fluttered closed as a few hot tears stung their way down his cheeks.

* * *

He was three years old, standing over a scattering of small metal beams, batteries, and wires that he had pulled from his erector set. Tony had kicked the robot he had been building to pieces, fueled by a sheer, helpless rage that always overcame him when he could not build what he saw in his mind. Maria Stark sat in the parlor, fingers hovering over the piano keys when she heard a sound of rage erupt from her young son, followed by metal clanging against the smooth slate floor.

“What are you doing, tesoro?”

Tony looked up at his mother tearfully, wringing his hands at his sides. “It wasn’t workin'.”

Maria kneeled down in front of him, organizing the pieces into a small pile at Tony’s feet. “You don’t act impulsively when things aren’t working, bambino. _You ask for help_. Now, I may not be as good with my hands as your father, but I can at least be your assistant. Okay?”

Sniffling in response, Tony let his mother wipe at his tearstained cheeks before he returned to work on the robot, the design in his mind even better than the one before.

* * *

“Sorry, Mamma. No one to ask for help now.” Tony said this to nobody through gritted teeth as the needle sunk into his skin, his trembling thumb pushing down on the plunger with strength he didn’t think he had in him. Tony had considered backing out when he heated the spoon over the flame of the lighter, he had no idea what he was doing – he didn’t know what amount he was supposed to inject, how it was supposed to feel, he wasn’t anywhere near a phone to call for help if things went wrong. Those concerns were washed away as he remembered the feeling of his mother’s lips against his fingertips, the emptiness of her eyes – he couldn’t resist doing this, just for a few moments away from the terrors of the day. 

It went exactly as he wanted it to, the euphoria had been overwhelming enough to drown out the sensation of being watched by his disappointed ( _but dead_ ) mother. Overwhelming enough that when he nodded off, Tony Stark did not experience a single concern about overdosing. Instead, he allowed himself to drift to sleep, sliding down the bedframe until he lay starfished on the floor.  

Edwin Jarvis was not the one who found Tony Stark dead on the floor of his bedroom. Instead, it was Obadiah Stane who nonchalantly searched for Tony’s pulse and hid the evidence of drug use. _Thank God_ , was all Obadiah could think as he sat on the edge of Tony’s bed, considering his next move. Now Stark Industries could fall into his lap without any interference from Howard’s bratty, spoiled son. It certainly made his life a _helluva_ lot easier, and paved the way for _Stane_ Industries to become the world’s leading provider of military materials – never mind who was buying. Patriotic sentiment was simply no match against money and power. Of course, he would have to deal with the press speculating how the seemingly healthy young son of an American titan had dropped dead less than 24 hours after his parents’ death. _Poor kid, must’ve died of a broken heart._ Stane snorted, looking down at Tony coldly. The boy had always been a nuisance, occupying Howard’s mind when he wasn’t occupying his time. Tony Stark had a habit of making PR messes that pulled Howard out of important meetings, leaving Obadiah to fend for himself – he was never as put together in front of the board members as Howard was. That would have to change.

Stane left the room to call the police adopting the frantic tone of _someone who gave a damn_ like a snake shedding its skin. 

* * *

The Tony Stark of the present stood at the feet of his younger self, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He pushed the glasses up until they rested on top of his head, and the scene faded away. Eyeing the whiteboard that took up the full expanse of the back wall (and ignoring the shield, ignoring the shield, _ignore the damn shield, Stark_ ), Tony picked up a dry erase marker and pulled the cap off with his teeth. His head throbbed painfully as he wrote, the marker squeaking in his ear. _Maybe drinking and using that thing isn’t a good combination… Who gives a damn?_

“What’d you think of that, FRIDAY?”

“Did you really overdose?”

Tony paused, staring up at the title he’d written on the board: DECEMBER 1991. A PROS column and then a CONS column followed the title, his handwriting was atrocious – _it’s the goddamned headache’s fault, that’s all_. _And the airplane booze. Really gotta watch myself with those._

“Yeah, I did. I used less in reality than what I used here… It was probably cut with something lethal, I’m lucky to have lived. Obie rushed me to the hospital, and I was spick and span in time for the funeral. Well, not really spick and span, but guests chalked my behavior up to grief, so I got away with it. Never bothered with drugs again, I guess that was enough to scare me out of it. Obie must’ve decided that me dying was too mysterious for him to get away with without being questioned about his involvement, or why I was left alone at home, or why the security cameras showed him in my room for 5 minutes before he left to call for help. So, he bided his time until 2008. It was a long wait, but I bet it felt good for him to finally kill me off. Then I came back and ruined it for him all over again. What’s that shitty thing I said about me being the personification of a phoenix metaphor? God, I'm so far up my own ass.” _No wonder Obie hated me._

Tony’s eyes focused on the pros column, “I think this is the simplest death, and the best one for the larger whole. I never grow up, Afghanistan never happens, Iron Man never happens, on and on and on. The numbers for casualties and monetary losses that would be prevented are huge. Aliens never fuck around with Earth, S.H.I.E.L.D. has no impetus to fall apart… All around, a job well done.”

But… there were drawbacks, definite drawbacks. “As for cons…. I never meet Pepper, though I guess that’s personal. I shouldn’t allow personal shit to factor into this, but you know what? It’s my death – she’s important to me. Plus, Rhodey… You know, I’ve never told him about the overdose, and he saw me that day… He’d wonder why I never told him what I was going to do… It’s not fair on him, I don’t want him to have to deal with that. And his last memory of me would be me telling him that I was fine and to enjoy his Christmas, that I’d call him later…” Tony stopped writing so that he could scrub his face with his hand, screwing his eyes up as he searched his aching mind for any more negatives that would come with this death – _hey, at least I went high._ “Oh, shit. This is a big one. Obie would be in charge, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t even bother dealing under the table; Stark Industries would never stop producing weapons. Hell, Obie would probably be the man who sends the first nuke of World War Three. No, I need to stop Stark Industries from producing weapons… Unfortunately, I played it safe with my life up until Afghanistan, so I guess that’s next. Close up this recording and prepare the next file, please.” If anything, Afghanistan was the next best thing, almost all of the cons would be erased and replaced with pros – _right_? Almost all of the cons except for Obie – _goddamn it, that won’t come until after Afghanistan. And I have to kill him._ “Edit the list too, include Afghanistan but cut out when Obie pulled my reactor – there’s no point in that one because he’d end up alive, and quite frankly, I don’t want to relive it. Maybe that’s selfish of me… I don't know."

"Why go through Afghanistan again if your main objective is to kill Stane?" FRIDAY's question was a good one, but it was also one Tony had an answer to. 

Tony rubbed at his chest, feeling the raised, rough skin of the reactor scar through the fabric of his shirt. "Yinsen."

“Tony!” Rhodey’s shout had Tony halfway across the workshop, heart pounding in his chest – what could have gone wrong now? _Oh God,_ is he okay?

“Yeah?” The electrodes were ripped from his scalp, the glasses flung carelessly onto the nearest workbench and abandoned as Tony took the stairs up from the workshop two by two. _Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay._

Rhodey gave him a concerned look once he reached the kitchen. Tony grabbed the edge of the counter with sweaty hands, hunched over as he caught his breath. Vision stood at the stove, cooking. Rhodey was supervising, which was not a bad idea given the android’s previous attempts at fine dining. He was getting there, though – that morning's toast hadn’t been half bad.

“You alright, Tony? You look like you just jabbed yourself with an epi-pen or something. Vision’s made us dinner. I think starting simple is probably for the best – he said his last attempts at dinner were --?”

“Unpleasant,” Vision supplied, stirring the pot evenly. “Natasha said I overcrowded the pan.”

“I don’t think you can mess up mac and cheese, can you?” Rhodey grinned at Tony, picking up the empty Kraft box. "No mystery spices in here."

Tony smiled, though it was pressed. _Nat, where are you?_ “I’m fine. Didn’t know I was moving that fast, guess I was just excited for dinner. I’ll be back in a sec, just gonna clean up. Your legs are really coming together, platypus.”

Rhodey frowned at Tony’s back as he made his way to his bedroom, a bit of a stagger in his step. Tony was lying to him. Not only that, but Tony was drunk – not wasted, but definitely getting there. Something had thrown him into an all out panic, Tony’s emotions always played out in his eyes. Rhodey worried for Tony, even though he knew he should be worried about himself – Tony _always_ worried Rhodey. Especially now, after what had happened in Siberia, Rhodey wanted to keep a close eye on his friend, but with his legs the way they were and with Tony’s tendency to close himself off… Yeah, it was going to be rough.

“Right!” Tony clapped his hands together as he reentered the kitchen, looking much more relaxed now after he’d downed a few pills, though his eyes were still far away. “Mac and cheese, what could go wrong?”


	3. Chapter 3

Vision’s mac and cheese had been absolutely delicious, and a week had gone by with no symptoms of food poisoning, even as Vision expanded his menu to include food that didn’t come out of a box. Tony had been unable to work on his secret project since then, swamped with work on Rhodey’s legs. It was one thing getting him to walk again, it was another thing figuring out a way for his legs to actually experience sensation. In college, Tony had learned that the soles of Rhodey’s feet were his weak spot when it came to tickling, and he would be damned if he was going to lose that tidbit of knowledge. Plus, Rhodey probably wanted to have sex with someone in the future. Tony had always detested doctors, something about the profession (perhaps it was the offices) gave him the creeps – but now he had a newfound respect for them. At the very least for neurologists.

It was not only Rhodey’s legs that consumed his waking moments. Tony was also working on a brand new suit for him. A little present for his best friend once he was back in flying condition, and even after what had happened to him because of it, Tony knew Rhodey would return to War Machine. Rhodey was selfless, would always fight for what was right. 138 combat missions would soon turn to 139, 140… War Machine had never really received the care that Tony gave his own suits – and that was part of the reason why Rhodey was paralyzed _wasn’t it?_ If he’d had an AI, at least the AI would have been able to deploy flaps before the system failed, to slow his fall, to do _something._ Something more than what Tony had done, speeding after the ruined suit with all his might, watching in horror as his best friend fell with no way for Tony to catch him. Just out of reach, like Pepper had been…

The new suit was undergoing a paintjob, and Tony pulled away from his work in time to drive the two of them to the city, a triumphant return to Colombia’s medical center. Rhodey had an important follow up appointment and Tony had a conference afterwards with Rhodey’s numerous doctors and surgeons, the tech needed the signature of almost every medical specialty. Luckily for Tony, the device had been well received. Tony had brought along the tests that FRIDAY had run, the results of which the doctors pored over, chatting amongst themselves. They were going to schedule Rhodey in for what would hopefully be his final surgery in the next week or so. _If this works, Mr. Stark, you’ll have changed the game for paralysis worldwide._ Tony hoped it worked, and wished he had put his mind to it sooner – _when you can do the things that I can, and then the bad things happen… they happen because of you._ Wise words from Peter Parker.

It had been a fantastic day for the two of them. Rhodey had Tony laughing until he was in tears. Their spirits were lifted due to the positive news, they’d even stopped for hamburgers on the drive back. It was almost like old times, driving back to college after the Thanksgiving holiday or something. _God, when’d we get so old?_

They were about half an hour from the compound when the conversation turned serious, and Tony had to bite his cheek to keep from groaning. The laughter had been genuine, but now as they neared the compound, the weight everything was beginning to pile back onto his shoulders. _Poor Atlas, can’t carry everything, huh? **I can damn well try.**_

“So, you’re gonna be at my surgery right?” Rhodey sipped at his soda, looking over at his friend nonchalantly.

“Speaking as the guy who is reconstructing your spine, I should think so.” Tony kept his eyes on the road, but he was weary of where the conversation was headed. Rhodey had known the answer, there was no need for the question. Unless it was leading somewhere.

“Well, I just texted Pepper and told her when my surgery is gonna be. She said she’s going to come.” Rhodey sipped again at his soda, scrolling through his phone casually. He was acting as if the mood in the Audi hadn’t just iced over, as cold as the air blowing from the AC.

“Oh, that’s good of her.” _Solid answer, Stark. Not desperate: did she ask about me? Do you know what she’s doing? Does she miss me?_

“Have you spoken to her since…?”

There it was. Tony’s palms were sweating against the leather of the steering wheel, his fingers curled around it with enough force that his knuckles popped. At least the roads were clear, Tony scowled as he pressed down harder on the accelerator.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ton–.”

“Alright, fine, I haven’t spoken to her since we broke up,” Tony snapped. “And I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

Rhodey set his cup in the cup holder, rubbing out a mark on his jeans before fixing Tony with a hard stare. The other man was avoiding his gaze, though his jaw was set, revealing just how upset he was. They were going to talk about this, about _all_ of this. It was for Tony’s own good, even if bringing up Pepper struck a nerve. The redhead had asked about Tony. Apparently he wasn’t answering her calls. That wasn’t the only concerning thing Tony was doing as of late.

“How many times have I told you that this favorite lone gunslinger act of yours is unnecessary? You have friends, Tony, people that care about you. Every time something goes south you just… Retreat in on yourself and do something stupid. You’ve always done that, man, and you _don’t have to_. You’re doing it now, you’re drunk every night and I don’t know what you’re taking, but I’ve seen you popping pills.”

“I’ve got friends, do I? More than one?” _Fine, Rhodey, if you want to open up this can of worms, **fine**. _ “I’ve learned my lesson, Rhodey. You’re the only friend I’ve got, and you’re the only one worth having. Why is it you assume I’m gonna do something self-destructive? I’ll also have you know that I’ve been taking prescribed medicine for my migraines, and that’s it. ”

“Given your track record, Tony, it’s usually not the wrong assumption. Pepper and I both care about you, and you’ve been in a bad place ever since –.”

“Yeah, how are you gonna phrase that one, buddy? Ever since I got the shit kicked out of me by my childhood idol? Ever since I lost the only family I’ve ever had since my parents –.” Tony swallowed, eyes blinking furiously behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “What was I to them?! I saw them as my family, all of them – even Clint and his gaggle of secret kids. I think of them – I thought of them, and associated them with peace, love, friendship, comfort, whatever emotional bullshit you get with having a family. Even when I retired, though what a crock of shit that was – I see where Pep was coming from – I gave them a brand new compound, brand new tech, paid for every last damn expense. And the minute, _the very minute_ I present them with the Accords, they back out. I’m not given an option to explain myself, they don’t even try to fucking compromise. And it’s not like we have a choice about the Accords – because we don’t, the Accords are the lesser of all evils, and God knows what’s going to happen to us now. We fought, it’s broken. I’ve never tried so hard to keep something together in my life, and it broke apart in my hands. All I have to show for it is a fucking… document and a shield.” Tony started off slow and steady, but now the words are spitting out of him, cutting his mouth as sharp as knives. His chest was burning as well as his arm, and he loosened up on the gas. The last thing they needed was to wreck, but maybe he’d get lucky and it would put him out of his misery. _Yeah, and then Rhodey would be hurt because you can’t have a normal fucking conversation. Chill out, Stark._

Rhodey took a deep breath, processing everything that Tony said. This was how Tony expressed his emotions, not at all – and then all at once. “You were doing what was right, Tony. You **were**. The Accords were – and still are – the only option for the Avengers to survive as we know it.”

“What Avengers?” Tony’s laugh was tinged with bitterness, and a sense of chaotic panic. “It’s you, me, and Vision. We make quite the team, but the Avengers are dead. Steve and I didn’t need to kill each other; something much larger already died because of us. Because of me. If I hadn’t pushed so hard –.”

Rhodey would have none of that. Tony layered guilt over his heart until it struggled to pump, his arteries were clogged by his own self-hate.

“No. You didn’t kill the Avengers, Tony. You were doing everything in your power to keep them together. It just didn’t work out – and yeah, maybe we could’ve taken a different approach, but you can’t change the past.”

_I’m working on that one, sour patch. Just you wait._

“I also saw that letter Steve wrote you.”

Tony slammed his hands down on the steering wheel, turning to Rhodey with such ferocity that the sunglasses slipped down the brim of his nose, reveling haunted, agonized brown eyes. The look in his eyes reminded Rhodey of a dog that had been kicked so many times that it thought the kicks were just as loving as a hug and a pat.

“Christ, Rhodey! We were having such a good day, can’t you just let me have one emotional outburst and then cut me a break?”

Rhodey calmly extended his arm so he could straighten the steering wheel, they were drifting into the wrong lane towards an oncoming car. “He sent you something to contact him with, didn’t he? You shouldn’t, Tony.”

“I know I shouldn’t,” Tony snarled as he pushed his sunglasses back up, eyes on the road once more. “I’m not going to.”

“Good, because you don’t need to be the one who goes crawling back and begging for forgiveness. Not this time, Tony. Guilt isn’t palladium, but it’s just as toxic. Give yourself a break, some time to think everything over. You’ll both contact each other when it’s time.”

 _God, I want to. I want a break._ But he couldn’t take one, not when the past was waiting to be fixed. He would be able to rest when he finally closed his eyes for good. Everyone and everything would be better off with him dead.

“I’m sorry.” Tony loosened his grip on the steering wheel, taking off his sunglasses so he could look at Rhodey with what he hoped came across as sincere gratitude. “I know you… care about me, and I care about you too. You’re my best friend, Rhodey, and I love you.” _Christ, how sappy. Hey, I’m gonna be dying soon, I’m allowed to be emotional._ “I’ll try not to start a fight with Pepper in the waiting room. We left things… Well, actually, the last thing we said to each other was I love you. The reason I haven’t spoken to her… I didn’t want that to change. I want to remember our last words being I love you, you know?”

Rhodey nodded, reaching out to pat Tony on the shoulder. The man needed a hug, but their lives had already been endangered once with Tony driving, and Rhodey really didn’t want to risk them again. “I get it. She cares about you, Tony. You worry us, we just want you to be alright. You don’t have to shoulder all the blame and then close everyone off. I know you think in some weird, twisted way that you doing that’ll be better off for everyone, but it’s not.”

Tony mirrored his nod, and they descended into comfortable silence for the duration of the trip. When they arrived at the compound, Vision was waiting for them, eager to hear the news from the appointment.

“I’m just gonna go run some more tests in the workshop,” Tony announced once inside. _God, I need a drink._ “I’ll be up for dinner. Tonight, I’m kicking both your asses in MarioKart.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes, holding onto the edge of the couch for support. His ability to walk with the cybernetic legs was improving every day, but Tony didn’t like leaving him alone in case he fell. Thankfully, Vision was there. Vision was also in desperate need of MarioKart lessons, Tony watched as the two men (well, one man and an android) made their way to the living room to practice.

“You’ll need all the help you can get, I’ll be lapping you on Rainbow Road like nobody’s business,” Tony called after them before racing down to the workshop.

* * *

“Alright, FRIDAY. We’re gonna knock out Afghanistan today.”

“Are you sure you want to do both scenes in one day? The headache will be quite severe.”

Tony didn’t even consider it, sliding the glasses on and putting the electrodes in place. He wrenched open the drawer of his desk, ignoring the flip phone ( _fuck you, Steve_ ) and grabbed a handful of small bottles of liquor instead. He downed each one without thought before shrugging off his jacket and stalking around the workshop until he was standing next to the shield, hands wringing restlessly at his sides.

“Gotta ease my conscience somehow. Plus, it’ll leave me so out of it that one of them is bound to kick my ass at MarioKart.” 

* * *

The ice of his drink clinked melodically against the glass as the Humvee barreled over the uneven terrain of the desert, Tony raised the glass to his lips to take a sip – _another job well done. Now Obie’ll be off my ass for a few weeks._ Until it was time to sell another missile, with the exact same payload as the last one, but with some new external tech that would convince the military that it was _totally_ worth the extra three million dollars per missile. The vehicle was completely silent, save for the tinny AC/DC blasting from the radio – Tony had to bring the CD _himself_ and none of the three soldiers were even indulging him by humming along _._ Looking out the window, Tony was glad that he was wearing sunglasses, and glad that he was on his way home. Snowcapped mountains lay in the distance, but aside from that, all he could see for miles was heat-baked sand. At least in Malibu he had a pool (an infinity pool at that, _top that desert_ ). This was not, according to Rhodey, an active combat zone, so Tony felt no remorse in attempting to make small talk. He wasn’t distracting the soldiers from anything except an empty landscape and the Humvee driving ahead of them. _Driving these things must be like driving a tank. I wanna drive a tank. Maybe I’ll make a tank._

Finally, the conversation in the Humvee started to go both ways, and Tony couldn’t help but smile. Ever since he was a boy, he’d always been a big fan of soldiers. Perhaps it was because he had been raised to idolize the greatest soldier that had ever lived, Captain America. When there were days that Tony questioned the direction of Stark Industries and the always-thickening coat of blood on his hands, he reminded himself that he was arming brave men and women who were fighting for the United States. He was providing them protection by way of his weapons. Who the weapons were used on was not a variable in his control. It eased the guilt, especially when he remembered that Captain America himself had used Stark Tech. _Always for the greater good, right Pop?_

“Is it cool if I take a picture with you?” The young soldier beside him finally bucked up the courage to ask, and Tony was more than happy to oblige, straightening his tie just in case the photo _did_ end up on the Internet somehow. The man raised his fingers in a peace sign and Tony couldn’t help but smirk at the irony. Here they were trundling through Afghanistan, armed to the teeth, all for the sake of peace. Peace was what was lining his billfold, and he was very grateful. How else could he afford to go 12 for 12 with last year’s Maxim cover models?

“Peace, I love peace. I’d be out of a job with peace.” Tony grinned at the camera, mouth straining slightly as the soldier in the passenger seat fumbled with the capture button. In that moment, Tony Stark was _very_ grateful that he was wearing sunglasses. The Humvee in front of them burst into flames, shrapnel flew through the air and into their own vehicle. Whiskey slopped down the front of his shirt, the glass shattered at his feet. It all happened so fast, their Humvee roared to a halt. _Rhodey._ Tony twisted in his seat, ready to get out of the Humvee. Rhodey had been in the car behind them, and Tony could hear shouting over the booming sounds of explosions and gunfire that made his head hurt. _Oh God, what if Rhodey’s dead?_

“Jimmy, stay with Stark!” The young soldier nodded at the command, panic evident on his face, but he flung his arm out to press Tony back against his seat. _Jimmy, his name is Jimmy._

Tony watched in horror as each soldier that got out of the Humvee was struck down almost instantaneously. Jimmy’s jaw worked in deliberation, before he threw open his own door, gun at the ready.

“Stay here!”

“No, don’t!” Tony shouted, but it was too late. The young soldier barely made it two feet away from the vehicle before he fell to the sand, dripping blood. The bullets that hadn’t struck him pierced through the metal of the Humvee, narrowly missing Tony. _Jimmy, his name is Jimmy._

There was no time for consideration, for weighing the odds. Tony threw himself out of the Humvee, eyes locking on to the machine gun that the soldier who had _just been taking his picture_ had dropped when he had been struck down by gunfire. Getting to the front of the Humvee, Tony rested the gun on the hood of the car, squinting in the smoke. It was impossible to make anything out, all he could hear was endless screaming, commands being shouted in a language other than English.

“Rhodey!” Tony pulled the trigger of the gun, firing blindly. Someone cried out in the smoke, and Tony cursed. _Fuck, what if that was a friendly?_ A thud pulled him away from his thoughts and from his pitiful attempts at aiming. At his feet sat a grenade. _Is that…?_ With a yelp, Tony’s hands fumbled, the gun landing next to the grenade. In school, he had participated in track and field – _this is just like a meet, except with one new rule, Tony. Run, jump over that fucking rock, and **hide**. _ Tony was thrown over the boulder as the grenade went off behind him. Small, incredibly sharp rocks struck his back, slicing through the silk of his suit. The feeling of warm blood running down his back alluded him to the fact that he was injured, but he felt no pain.

Panting – _God, the air’s so dry –_  Tony crawled towards the boulder on his hands and knees, tears stinging at his eyes. _Halfway there, halfway there – wait._ Tony lifted one hand from the sand to dig around in the pocket of his suit, pulling out his cellphone. _International service, thanks me._ The boulder could wait; he was going to call for help. Dialing Rhodey’s number, the phone pressed up against his ear as Tony sunk into an army crawl against the grit. _I’m never going to the beach again._

The phone was ringing in his ear when a long black missile landed not three feet away from him. Tony’s eyes widened in complete, utter terror. He read over the white, jarring words on the side of the missile, how could he not? It was a logo he was extremely familiar with. **Stark Industries**. The phone fell to the ground and Tony saw only one viable course of action: _run._ He pulled himself to his feet, but it was already too late. Tony’s arms rose to cover his eyes as the blast threw him back towards the Humvee. He felt nothing when he slid down the metal of the burning car, his vision was blurry and his ears were ringing – _pick up, Rhodey. Oh God, please pick up._

His vision came into focus when he tried to get to his feet, but there were no feet to get up on.

“Where are my legs?” He voice was slurred, Tony’s shaking hands pressed to the bloody stump of his left thigh, bone fragments splintered off in between his fingers. He had worn a bulletproof vest, which was great for bullets, but not for the black metal spike of the missile that was jutting out of his chest, just below his sternum. His legs couldn’t be helped now, so his hands migrated to his chest, ripping his shirt open to inspect the damage.

“Rhodey.” Tony’s whisper was despairing, he needed medical attention and he needed it now. The shrapnel had punctured through the Kevlar of his vest, blood trickled down its grooves in long rivulets. He was going to die of blood loss. It was only a matter of waiting a few minutes.

Tony tipped his head back, looking up at the sun even as his vision began to blur around the edges. His breaths came in tearing gasps, his bloodstained hands had fallen in his lap.

His hearing faded away, all he could “hear” was the harsh, cold voice of his thoughts, a voice he usually kept quiet with alcohol. Tony was suddenly gripped with a desperate need for a strong drink.

_I spilled it all over myself. How pathetic of me would it be to try to suck it out of my shirt? It’s not like anybody’s watching… Fuck, that’s a lot of blood. Look ma, no legs! And I got impaled with something I made myself. JARVIS had me go through his lab safety course every year, and look where it got me. Lying on some fucking desert in the middle of nowhere, bleeding out._

Tony couldn’t see now, which would usually terrify him, but in this case it was a blessing. With his hearing and vision gone, he could imagine himself lying in his bed in Malibu – except, **fuck** if his legs didn’t hurt.

_Hey, at least I made the deal, right Obie? Why couldn’t we send someone else for this shit – and why didn’t I make the vest myself, out of vibranium? Cap probably would’ve lived through this. Hell, Cap would’ve thrown himself on top of that missile. What did I do? I ran. **Coward.** Oh, the adrenaline’s wearing off… Christ – that hurts like a son of a bitch. Please let Rhodey be okay, and don’t let him find me – let someone else do that… Or better yet, let me just die here in the desert and never get found, because Jesus, what an embarrassment. Killed by my own tech. This never would’ve happened to Dad, nope, he just crashes cars and kills Mamma too. Drunk behind the wheel, no goddamn seatbelt. Not that this is anymore dignified, killed by my **own fucking tech.** I hope someone tells JARVIS what happened to me, I hope they don’t leave him sitting in an empty house… Please let Pepper shut him down, or use him at the office. Pepper… Hey, it’s her birthday. Happy birthday, Pepper. _

A ghost of a smile passed over Tony’s bloody lips, his fingers twitched and then relaxed in his lap. One last breath was torn from the air before his head lolled against the Humvee languidly. As the smoke and dust cleared, the sun continued to bake the sand now soaked with Tony Stark’s blood, helicopters whined in the distance as they hovered over the snowcapped mountains Tony had been admiring earlier. Somewhere amidst the chaos, James Rhodes shouted for his friend.

* * *

“Well, damn. That was gory.” Tony pushed the glasses up onto the top of his head, rubbing at his eyes. His head was already killing him, his vision was swimming, and his handwriting was now an untidy, illegible scrawl across the whiteboard.

“Let’s see, let’s see. Pros… Well, I assume that Yinsen lives. Maybe they didn’t have him until after they filmed that video of me. Maybe Yinsen gets out of Gulmira, goes – hell, I don’t know where he goes. But I know he’d make better use of his life than I did with mine. In this, I picked up a gun instead of running like a coward – of course, that got me killed. And I thought of the cellphone before I got to the boulder, and that got my legs blown off. Okay, okay, second pro is I die, which we’ve established is a fantastic outcome. Otherwise, why the hell am I doing this? Cons are same as before, Obie inherits Stark Industries, the world probably goes to shit because of it… And I die on Pepper’s birthday, which is a really shitty gift to receive. Especially since I never really got to say goodbye to her. Well, I did – but not the last goodbye I would ever want to give her.”

Tony nearly tripped over a workbench as he made his way to his desk, looking back at it over his shoulder with a scowl. _When the hell did that get there? Whoa, has there always been so many in here?_

Jerking open the drawer of his desk, Tony pulled out a few more small bottles of liquor ( _I need to refill this drawer tomorrow, running low. Better yet, move a whole bar down here…_ ) as well as his small container of Oxycodone. He dry swallowed two pills, followed by the contents of two vodka bottles.

“Boss, I really must advise against combining Oxycodone with alcohol. It can cause drowsiness, lightheadedness, impairment in judgment, low blood pressure, coma –.”

“Save it for somebody who cares, FRIDAY. I’m just giving them a huge handicap for MarioKart, and my head’s killing me. Have some sympathy, before I have to code it into you. Anyways, I’m almost wrapped up here and whoa boy…” Tony sunk down into the chair at the desk, feeling dizzy. “Damn, that kicked in fast. We better finish up Afghanistan before I slip into a coma or whatever it was you were warning me about. Though, on second thought, a coma sounds really attractive.”

“I truly insist that we call Colonel Rhodes and Vision down into the workshop and have you taken to a hospital.”

“Can it, FRIDAY. I’ve been to a hospital today, got a clean bill of health – well, I wasn’t the one they were examining, but still, I went. If you so much as alert them that we’re running low on milk while I’m down here, I’m reprogramming you. Start recording.” 

* * *

His chest was on fire with a pain so immense that he could barely register much else of anything except the fact that he was freezing. Freezing and burning at the same time. He gulped in a lungful of air before coughing violently in response to the foreign sensation of there being a tube up his nose. Groaning hoarsely, Tony ripped the surgical tape away from his nostril and pulled the tube out of his nose forcefully, ignoring the burn. Once he had breathed in deeply for twenty seconds, he licked his dry, cracked lips and tasted the metal tang of blood. _Oh, things aren’t lookin’ too hot._ Next on the agenda was water, and then he was getting the _hell_ out of here. Wherever here was – _Christ, it’s cold._

Tony turned his head very slowly to the left, his neck protesting the movement with a jolt of pain, not nearly rivaling his chest, but enough for him to bite down on his lip sharply. He could remember bits and pieces… there was the missile, and wasn’t that a load of shit? How were his weapons being used against the people he sold them to? There was also the surgery, he could remember that distinctly – no anesthesia really had a habit of etching things into your long-term memory. The grinding of a bone saw still buzzed in his ears as he raised his arm, reaching for the cup of water on the side table despite the fresh roar of agony from his chest. _Just grab it, goddamn it, grab it._ His trembling fingers valiantly stretched for the metal cup and knocked it onto the ground. Tony could only whimper in anger. The whimper died in his throat when his eyes locked on the one other human in the room, he hadn’t noticed him at all. A lanky bald man was shaving his beard in front of a dirty, broken mirror that was tacked up to the wall of the cave. _Thank God, another person._ In his haste to roll over to face the man completely, he let out a choked gasp of pain, something was pulling at his chest.

Raising his hands to his chest, his shaking fingers ran over gauze that was caked with blood, there were thick wires running under the gauze – wires that were connected to something in his chest. _Something **in** my chest._ The want for air, water, freedom, **anything** disappeared as he tore at the gauze with all his might, which wasn’t much considering the circumstances. A dry sob echoed through the cave as he stared down at the hunk of metal in his chest, rusted and completely alien. Blood was caked around the disk, and the skin surrounding it was bright red. Dark red lines radiated away from the disk of metal, and Tony knew what that meant. _Blood poisoning, coming right up._ _I’m going to die here._ Though his eyes were watery with tears, they followed the wires to a pushcart next to the bed. The tears fell as he saw a car battery, a _fucking car battery._ Tipping his head back, Tony panted for air, his mouth opening and closing like a fish stuck on land. Distantly, he was reminded of one Halloween when he had dressed up as a cyborg – _hasta la vista baby._ All the air in the world wasn’t enough for him in that moment, and when his vision faded into oblivion, he went without a fight.

 _What the hell did Pepper order to eat?_ Tony’s eyes fluttered open, drawn to the cooking fire on the ground, which certainly was not going to pass building code. He would need to have a very frank chat with his personal assistant on fire safety, once he was out of this cave. _Oh, right. I’m in a cave._

“Good morning!” The man who had been shaving his face earlier was now crouched over the flames, stirring whatever was in the pot – and it didn’t smell good. Judging by the ragged appearance of Tony’s new chef, he wasn’t in charge, either. _Probably a captive. Though I don’t remember there being any plainclothes in the procession… aside from me. Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention._

“I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for gruel, Mr. Stark. I gave up “fresh” meat for a week to get you some morphine, your groans made it nearly impossible for me to sleep. They were also kind enough to provide you with some gloves, you were getting frostbite. Sorry if they aren’t in season, but it was the best I could do.”

Slowly, Tony sat up on the bed, weary of the jolt of pain that came whenever the wires were tugged. _Hey, if that car battery falls, will this thing just pop out of me?_

“What’d you do to me?” A bit more accusatory than he intended, but the bald man had been the one with the bone saw. Tony could remember his own blood splattered across the lenses of the other man’s glasses.

“I saved your life.” The pot was lifted from the flames and set onto the table where Tony’s cup of water had sat just out of reach. Squinting in the flickering firelight, Tony tried to make out the object that the other man fished from his pocket.

“I removed all the shrapnel I could, but there’s still quite a bit left… Quite a bit left indeed. It’s a common injury in these parts. In my village, we call them the walking dead. It takes about a week for the pieces to pierce the vital organs. Unfortunately, due to where the shrapnel entered… In normal conditions, it wouldn’t take more than five minutes for your heart to be torn to pieces.”

_Huh. The walking dead, like the comic. Neat._

“It’s all headed into your atrial septum. I saved you a souvenir in case you don’t believe me, but judging by the look on your face, that might not have been necessary.”

Tony raised his hands defensively as the other man tossed a vial towards him, and though Tony had never been one for baseball ( _c’mon, butterfingers, you call yourself my kid?_ ) he managed to grab hold of it, thanks to his new gloves. _Fingerless, really?_ Holding the bloodstained glass up to the light, Tony could watch his own funeral jingle around in the vial. _Any other situation, you’d step on one of these and get tetanus. But Tony Stark’s gotta show everyone up and blast ‘em into his own bloodstream._

With a slight frown, Tony placed the vial onto the bed beside his leg. The walking dead was right, he felt like shit. There were more than ten pieces of shrapnel in the vial, and that was a lot by Tony’s standards, but there was still “quite a bit left”. _Might as well get familiar with my funeral parlor. But first…_

“And what’s this?” Tony tapped at the metal imbedded in his chest, wincing in preparation for pain that luckily didn’t come. _Thank God for morphine._

“That? That’s an electromagnet, hooked up to a car battery. It’s keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart. That’s what keeps you from being a normal case. Of course, when it runs out of juice, that’s that… And for some reason, I do not think they’ll be inclined to give you a new one.”

 _They._ Tony’s eyes roamed the cave, attempting to make out a door in the dim light, some weak point for him to exploit. He found nothing except a soft red light blinking in the top right corner of the cave, which he focused on. _Well I’ll be damned, a camera. Maybe I’m being punk’d. You got me, Rhodey!_

“That’s right, smile!” The other man scooped out some of the stew and plopped it into a dirty looking glass, a little larger than the vial that held the shrapnel. “You know, we met once, at a technical conference in Bern.”

 _I’ve been to a technical conference in Bern? Bern… Where the hell is that?_ “I don’t remember.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” the man offered him the glass with a wry smile. “If I’d been that drunk, I wouldn’t have been able to stand, much less give a lecture on integrated circuits. It was a very cohesive lecture, by the way, I can’t imagine how fantastic it would’ve been sober –.”

Industrial-strength flashlight beams illuminated the cave, people were shouting, and his savior lunged to his feet with his hands behind his head.

“Get up, do as I do. Don’t say anything unless they ask you directly.”

Tony looked at him uncomprehendingly which earned him a snarl and an arm around his bicep, pulling him roughly up onto his feet. _Dinner’ll go cold, dear. Of course, now we’ll need to lick it off the ground._

“I said get up, Stark! Pick up the car battery, put your free hand up, and **don’t speak**.”

Swaying on his feet, Tony heaved the car battery under one arm and shuffled into the light, following his surgeon, chef, and fellow prisoner. _Jack of all trades, good ol’ Mr. We Met at a Technical Conference in Bern. Great guy._

In front of them stood a group of men, and they all held automatic weapons that had been born of a prototype Tony had sitting in his workshop at home. _Holy shit. There’s no way…. They must be snatching them off of corpses, but those look brand new. Hell, I just rolled that line out last month. How the hell do they have my weapons?_ He was so distracted by his thoughts that he only caught the last bit of Mr. Technical Conference’s translation. _No, Mamma, they don’t speak Italian everywhere._

“… He wants you to build the missile…. The Jericho missile that you demonstrated.” A blurry satellite photo was thrust forward towards them, and Tony didn’t need to look at it to know what they were demanding. That picture had been taken on the day of the demonstration. _Fuck, how long have they been watching me? They must’ve had access to my calendar, or someone else’s calendar – the military’s? What would Dad do?_ That was an easy question, ignoring the blatantly obvious fact that Howard Stark would have never been caught. Howard Stark would thrust his chest forward and tell his captors that he would sooner be dead than make weapons for _the enemy._

Howard Stark was taller, and much more intimidating, but Tony Stark puffed up his chest and set his jaw all the same. _What’s the worst that could happen? If no one’s found me yet, and they have my weapons… Those soldiers died because of me._

“I refuse.”

His cave companion turned to look at him with wild eyes, but Tony didn’t back down. It seemed like his message came across clearly. The man who had been addressing them ( _guy in charge? Beards equal in charge_ ) waved his hand and turned to leave the cave, while his lackeys stepped forward and grabbed Tony by each arm. Snarling like a cornered animal, Tony kicked and lashed out at them as best he could, until the man on his right took the butt of his gun and rammed it against the electromagnet in his chest.

When he came to, he had been forced to his knees in front of a metal basin filled with water. Judging by the steam rising from the surface, it was extremely hot. Tony blinked flurry black shapes from his vision and coughed raggedly.

“Jericho missile!” Thick fingers threaded through the hair on the top of his head, tugging sharply so he was forced to look back at the men who were gathered behind him. One of them held the car battery, and when Tony met his gaze, the man grinned toothily and yanked the car battery backwards. Tony cried out in pain, his vision spotting while the wires loosened on the magnet. _I’m like a goddamn dog on a leash. So much for morphine._

“I refuse,” he snapped, eyes dark with rage. He knew what they were going to do, and it was going to ruin bubble baths for life. Howard Stark would not break on pain of death, and neither would his son.

The man who held his hair sighed audibly, his foot connected with the small of Tony’s back, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him right up against the edge of the basin. Before he could catch his breath, he was forced under the water up to his shoulders. The heat was incredible, and he was screaming under the water, air traitorously escaping him in droves of bubbles. Tony attempted to dive into the water to escape from the hand firmly holding the back of his head, but there were more hands braced against his back, holding him down. _Trapped._ It felt like he had been underwater for hours and when he was brought back up for air, he wished he had a timer. Choking on water stuck in his throat, Tony tried to shake his head to clear his waterlogged ears. He gagged, heaving up water into the basin. _It’s a good thing I didn’t eat before this._ Someone was laughing in the background, and he was kicked again with a gasp that choked off with a fresh mouthful of burning water.

 _Maybe you can just say yes… **No.**_ Tony jerked in the water as the electromagnet sparked. He was soaking wet, and the water contacted the exposed wires of the magnet. The shock overrode the morphine, and then it sparked again, and again… Tony’s sudden, powerful jerk caused the man who was holding onto the car battery to stagger forward and lose his grip on it. The car battery thumped to the dirt, and the wires flew off of the electromagnet, their weak grip had come undone. Tony twitched in the water, dimly aware that his chest was smoking. _I’m Mister Heat Miser…_ Rough hands pulled him out of the water and threw him back onto the ground. Tony stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, breathing shallowly as the men discussed where the wires were supposed to connect on the electromagnet. There were two schools of thought, it seemed, but neither option yielded results. Tony frowned vaguely as the shrapnel traveled through his bloodstream and into his heart without interference. He died on the wet dirt just as the wires were placed correctly. The car battery hummed to life, drowning out the small sigh of Tony Stark’s final exhalation.

* * *

“That’s fucking shit.” Tony pulled the glasses off with a grunt and tossed them onto the desk beside the empty liquor bottles. “What are the chances that they let Yinsen go after that?”

“Would you care for the actual mathematical odds –?”

“No, FRIDAY, it was a goddamn figure of speech.” Tony’s fingers dug into the armrests of the chair as he began to wheel himself up towards the white board. “We’ve gotta find a way to get rid of these headaches without killing my liver… Alright, alright… I mean, that death should’ve happened! There were exposed wires all over the place, and they were pretty generous with dunking me into the water. It wasn’t Yinsen’s fault I died either, so they would have to let him go – he didn’t fail them… That’s a pro, but you and I both know that it wouldn’t work out that way. Cons, Obie. And…” Tony chewed on the end of the dry erase marker, resting his forehead against the cool surface of the whiteboard. “I go against Yinsen’s last request. He said to me… _I want this_ , he said. His family was already gone, and he believed that he would meet them when he died. By doing this, I go against his final wishes. But I’ve done that already, haven’t I? I’ve wasted my life. There’s no way to save him. We were given 24 hours to make the missile, and that will always happen no matter what I do. I mean we cut corners just to get the suit to work. Yinsen will always be forced to buy us more time…” Tony pushed himself up from the chair. “Yinsen will always die at the expense of the greater good. Quit recording, FRIDAY. I’ve had enough. We’ll carry on when I have time to deal with Obie. Once we’re done with that death, I’ll get crackin’ on the time travel tech… Unless the cons outweigh the pros.”

Tony pushed on the workshop door, frowning when it didn’t budge.

“It’s pull, boss.”

“Right you are, FRIDAY, right you are.” Tony nearly fell up the stairs, and he was out of breath by the time he reached the top. His glazed over eyes met Vision’s clear ones. The android had been waiting at the top of the stairs for him.

“Hey, man, changing up the outfit I see! The overalls look great, you’d fit right in with the 90s. I like it better than the middle-aged dad thing you had goin’ on and – hey, rice krispy! You guys finish up MarioKart?”

Rhodey seemed unfazed by the newest nickname, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he walked over to the top of the stairs. “No, man, we were waiting for you. But I see that you’ve already… Gotten shitfaced.”

“What, is a man not allowed to party on a…?”

“Tuesday.”

“Is a man not allowed to party on a Tuesday night? Give me a break, teddy graham, you’ve already accosted me once today.”

“I’m not accosting you, Tony –.”

“This man is accosting me!”

Vision reached out and grabbed Tony by the shoulder to keep him from falling backwards down the stairs.

“I believe Mr. Stark is under the influence of more than just alcohol,” the android’s voice was even, but _is that synthetic concern in his eyes? Jesus._

“Oops, you caught me. Just busy shooting up on betrayal and self-hate downstairs.”

“Jesus, Tony. Are you really going to go on a bender right now? I guess I should start taking out a paycheck for being your babysitter, ‘cause I’m not getting anything else out of it. Don’t make me –.”

“What, sweetheart, call Pepper? What the hell is she going to do, put me in timeout?”

“You’re being reckless, Tony, and you’re pushing everyone away. Go to sleep, you’re impossible when you’re drunk. We’ll talk about it later.”

Tony wrenched himself out of Vision’s grasp, pushing past the two and flicking Rhodey off as he stumbled to his bedroom.

“Fine! You both know I’d kick your asses at MarioKart, so you’re chickening out. Real nice move, guys. Have a fucking –” Tony hiccupped, “– fun Tuesday night!”

The door to his bedroom slammed but Rhodey didn’t flinch. Instead, he pulled out his phone and composed a brief text message.

“Was that to Ms. Potts?”

“Yeah. She’s gonna be at my surgery, and she wanted to know how Tony was holding up. I think she needs to be prepared for what she’s walking in to. He’s a goddamn mess. What did you mean when you said he was under the influence of something other than alcohol?”

“Oh, I believe Mr. Stark picked up a prescription for pain medication. For migraines, he said. That may be true, but he seemed in high spirits when you returned from the hospital.”

Rhodey slipped his phone back into his pocket, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at Tony’s door. _Right, the meds. He mentioned them in the car._

“He’s done this before… Gone on a bender, I mean. I just gotta keep him from slipping off to the workshop alone, that’s really where he loses himself.” Rhodey’s eyes moved to the stairs. Tony would have locked the workshop, there was no use going down there now. _From now on, I’ll follow him down there. Running tests my ass. Whatever he’s working on, it’s not just my legs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm going to be abroad for 2 months starting this week for school. I'm not sure when I'll be able to post an update (or if I will be able to at all). Worst-case scenario, there'll be an update towards the end of July. This chapter was a little longer as a going away present. Thank you for reading, and I hope you'll stick around!


	4. Chapter 4

The hood of the Cobra shut with a slam that echoed through the garage, Tony Stark threw the Allen wrench to the tool table with a dramatic sigh, collapsing into a chair that was next to the car and wiped at his face with his hand, unaware that it was covered in black motor oil. Turning his head, Tony pointedly looked over at Rhodey where he was sitting quietly on the other side of the car, the pointedness of the look perhaps embellished by the oil that now shaded Tony’s eye sockets, making him look like a harried raccoon.

“Wow, a whole week in the garage and we’ve inched our way towards progress. I probably wouldn’t have broken that pulley had you actually helped.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes, running his hand over the smooth blue hood of the car. “Hey man, I offered to help you day one. I even picked up a screwdriver, and then you bit my head off for grabbing the wrong tool and said the only thing you’d let me do around your… baby,” Rhodey gave Tony his own pointed look, “is sit here and listen to your shitty music.”

“My music is **not** shitty,” Tony grumbled, picking up a dirty rag to wipe his hands with, but really only managing to spread the oil, caking it into his skin.

“Fine, putting a word in your mouth, I’ll give you that. But c’mon, Tony, you’ve kept me out of the workshop this whole week, and I know you’re probably thinking that because tomorrow’s my surgery, you’ll be able to sneak down there while I’m incapacitated – which is low, by the way – and that all you have to do in the meantime is keep me away from it. So, you started a project that didn’t need to happen because the Cobra was in perfect condition when you started. I asked FRIDAY.”

“Wow, talk about low blows…” Tony gave Rhodey a wounded look, giving up on cleaning his hands with the rag; he’d wash them on the way out of the garage.

“So you admit it?” Rhodey was a little taken aback, he hadn’t expected that approach to actually yield results, it never usually did.

Tony’s mind was working fast, he had to come up with some attempt at an idea. Even if he tried to change the subject, Rhodey would never let the workshop drop. Not to mention the fact that Rhodey was right, Tony had been intentionally keeping out of the lab because he knew that he would be followed, and that had really stalled his project – which wasn’t good for the present or the future, _who knows what I’ll fuck up next_?

“I’ve been keeping you out of the workshop because I’ve been working on a surprise for you. You weren’t supposed to know about it til after your surgery, hell, I haven’t even decided if I’m going to give it to you. I’m not sure if you’d like it, or if it would send the wrong message, or if it’s insensitive.”

Rhodey’s eyebrows rose, this was definitely not what he had been expecting. “There’s only one way to find out how those worries will pan out. Why don’t you show me?”

_Shit, shit, shit._ Rhodey wanted to ruin his own surprise, but maybe that would help Tony out – maybe the new suit would distract him from the dusty metalwork strewn over the workbenches, or the nice arrangement of liquor bottles that Tony was curating.

“Fine, honey bunch, but you’ll be ruining your post-surgery surprise,” Tony admonished, getting to his feet. He gave the car a comforting pat before walking to the sink that was installed next to the door of the garage. The Cobra was his father’s car, and Tony never stopped working on it, disassembling and reassembling, only to be unsatisfied with the result and returning to disassembly.

Rhodey made his way over to where Tony was furiously scrubbing his hands with pumice soap, cybernetic attachments yielding fluidly to the movements of Rhodey’s legs, a testament to the hard work Rhodey had been putting into his physical therapy sessions every day.

“You missed a spot.”

Tony pulled his hands out from the water, looking first at his pristine palms, and then at the back of his hands, seeing no trace of oil. “Uh…”

“Might wanna look up.”

Tony did as instructed, meeting his own gaze in the mirror that was fixed above the sink, laughing lightly. He looked vaguely similar to how he had emerged from the fight with Steve, except these black eyes would wash away.

“Gotta be careful not to blind myself with this soap…”

Rhodey nodded, watching as Tony delicately dabbed at the skin around his eyes with the soap, massaging it in gently. “You know, if I had the energy to put up with you whining for the rest of the day, I totally would dunk your head under.”

“After I worked so hard on styling my hair this morning?” Tony looked appalled, splashing at his face and screwing up his eyes to keep the soap from running into them. Grabbing for a cloth blindly, Tony wiped at his eyes, and then tossed the damp cloth over his shoulder, where it landed on the tool table.

“Still got it,” Tony grinned, opening the door to the garage, holding it so that Rhodey could follow. He was the shining picture of self-assuredness, even though his palms were already sweating, they weren’t even in the workshop yet. Years of expertly crafting a façade of confidence would not fail him now. Hopefully.

“What do you still have? You never played a sport that involved throwing things. That throw was weak, too.”

“Gosh, Rhodey, what has gotten into you? Aside from your pre-surgery laxatives."

“Fuck off,” Rhodey replied good naturedly, following Tony across the hall, pausing as the other man pressed his thumb against the scanner and pushed the door open.

Rhodey often found that the workshops that Tony Stark called home (or perhaps, sanctuary) were complete and utter bombsites, and he was always amazed when the other man would painlessly locate an item in less than ten seconds. If there was an organizational method to Tony’s workshops, Rhodey hadn’t decoded it.

But this was a completely different situation; this workshop possessed none of the warm, albeit confounding familiarity that Rhodey had come to expect when spending time in the workshop. His eyes travelled around the expansive room and latched on to its centerpiece, Captain America’s shield. Even placed in the far corner, the gleaming red and blue metal commanded the room. It was obvious that Tony had cleaned it up, and Rhodey could only imagine how long it had taken to fill in the scores left by Black Panther, to buff away the blast marks and to scrub out the blood. Once he managed to tear his gaze away, Rhodey found himself looking at the whiteboard, which was covered in Tony’s handwriting, though it became progressively more illegible as he moved across it. He would have moved on to the collection of empty liquor bottles, had he not made out his name under CON, DECEMBER 1991, and CON, AFGHANISTAN 1.

“What’s this, Tony?”

_Fuck, shit, fuck._ “Mm… Mad Libs.”

“Mad Libs.” Rhodey crossed his arms over his chest, picking out more words from the scrawl. “You do realize you’re supposed to play Mad Libs with a group of people, right? What’s the theme of this story? Yinsen’s last words, Pepper, Obie…?”

This was painful, and nerve-wracking, and Tony could think of only one solution. Striding across the workshop, after tripping over a piece of time travel tech ( _I don’t even remember where that one goes…_ ), Tony lunged forward and grabbed the eraser, erasing the whiteboard madly.

“Like I said, I was making a Mad Libs. About… my life. It was gonna be funny, til you ruined it.” Slightly out of breath, Tony pushed up on his toes to remove the last vestiges of marker from the board. _At least I recorded all that. Morbid fuck **and** brilliant genius with an intuition of gold. _“Glad that wasn’t your surprise, or I would be really put out.” The desk was a hop, skip, and a jump away – Tony wasted no time typing a command into the computer, not wanting Rhodey to poke around the workshop anymore. He was almost certain that there was nothing else lying out in the open related to his projects, aside from the bits of time travel tech lying around the workshop, but they didn’t look like much of anything.

Between the workbenches, the new mark of War Machine rose from the floor, complete with a bit of pneumatic smoke billowing from the joints of the suit. _Wow. For not being planned, that looks damn impressive._

Tony began to pace around the suit, looking over at Rhodey nervously, the other man was stone-faced and silent. Wringing his hands at his sides, Tony had to fill the silence, which usually resulted in digging his grave deeper.

“It’s really been eating at me, how your suit wasn’t in the same… Tier as mine, how it was neglected in terms of tech and not – I mean, _it didn’t even have an AI_. If it had, there would’ve been _something_ that it could have done, that I could have done… I never want you to be in that position again, so I’ve… Improved every single aspect that I could – it’s more advanced than my newest suit, the AI is completely unique, I haven’t even given it a name, I thought you’d like to do the honors. I don’t mean to imply that the minute you’ve recovered from your surgery, you have to go right back into the suit, that’s not what I mean. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry – I know, I’ve said it a lot, but I need you to know – and that I will never _ever_ let War Machine tech slip below my radar again. And if you don’t want to fly it, well, it probably would make a great centerpiece on your table. Good conversation starter.”

Rhodey’s hand latched onto Tony’s upper arm, stopping him from his frenetic lapping of the suit. Bucking up the courage, Tony looked hopefully at the other man, who was actually smiling – though it was a small smile, it still counted in Tony’s books.

“I’m not insulted or anything Tony, it’s fantastic. If you’ve really updated every aspect, then it’s exactly what I need. You didn’t think I was gonna retire War Machine after such a long record of complete ass kicking? Walk me through the updates.”

Tony grinned, a grin consisting of happiness from Rhodey enjoying his surprise and triumph that his ruse had worked. “Alright, well, like I’ve already mentioned, a brand new AI. I updated the code, too, so it’s really the pinnacle of artificial intelligence, scout’s honor. Starting with weaponry, because this is War Machine we’re talking about, and I don’t want to bore you with the minutiae of technical framework. The repulsor tech is probably what I’m proudest of -.” Tony had just begun to work himself into a frenzy when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Not recognizing the number, he frowned and accepted the call, stepping away from Rhodey with a finger up. Unplanned phone calls never lasted long with him.

“Tony Stark speaking. Make it snappy.”

“Stark, you’ve dodged my calls long enough.” Thaddeus Ross’ voice was cold and unforgiving, and Tony felt his good mood slip away, replaced by the beginnings of terror. He sounded like Obadiah Stane. Waving his hand at Rhodey, Tony pressed the phone to his chest, hoping that it would block out his voice as he addressed his friend.

“I’ve gotta take this – FRIDAY, walk him through the new suit.”

It was as if he was walking through the deserts of Afghanistan as he stumbled to the door, clawing at the buttons of his shirt, needing air.

“How’d you get this number?”

“Do you really, truly believe that there is anything private left about you, Stark? I was half tempted to have soldiers bust down the doors of your shimmering castle on a cloud and take you into custody. I still might.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony sunk down onto the nearest step, shaking hands struggling to undo anything beyond the second button. Perhaps he shouldn’t have dodged Ross’ calls for so long, the man had a temper…

“Don’t act like you don’t know, like you didn’t help Rogers with the others.”

Ross was right on the first accusation, the second, not so much.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony insisted, hoping desperately that his voice sounded as strong as it needed to be to convince Ross of his innocence.

“All of your former teammates managed to escape from the Raft, with the help of Steve Rogers. Even without his shield he incapacitated all of the guards, and though there’s not a sign of your signature arrogance, I still have reason to believe – given your radio silence – that you were involved.”

“Secretary Ross, I can assure you that I have no interest in helping Steve Rogers,” the words were spat out with complete venom. “I’ve been helping my friend recover from his paralysis.”

“Ah, yes, Colonel Rhodes. I see that he’s scheduled for surgery tomorrow.”

“How do you – yes.” Tony didn’t have the energy to argue with him, in fact, he wanted him to get to his point as quickly as possible so that Tony could hang up.

“Then I see no reason as to why you would need to continue to shirk your duties, this surgery should heal him. I expect you to start looking for Steve Rogers and have a viable lead by the end of this week. The others are not as important – Rogers is a traitor to his country, he will face the consequences as such, and you’ll be the one to bring him in.”

“But I don’t know where to look!” Well, that was a bit of a lie. King T’Challa had disappeared from the public eye, too. Back to Wakanda, no doubt, and maybe with some new, brightly costumed friends. Tony Stark would not step foot into Wakanda uninvited, it was suicide.

“I suggest you start looking,” Ross said simply. “It would be unfortunate for Colonel Rhodes to get caught up in all of this, right? It would be really devastating if, on his first mission back as War Machine, he gets caught in friendly fire. What’s that excuse the Air Force loves to use… A training exercise gone wrong? Then there’s the matter of Ms. Potts…”

Tony’s stomach dropped, his grip around the phone viselike.

“She’s so busy as CEO of Stark Industries, her calendar has her on a flight almost every single day. It would be as unfortunate for her plane to suffer an accident once out of US airspace. A terrible mechanical failure, maybe, but the plane’s black box would never be recovered, so we would never know. All that would be left is you, and you’re an easy one to take care of, Stark. I would toss you in the Raft to rot away. Since you thrive off of attention, I imagine that’s a fate worse than death. My perspective may have changed, but my methods have not. I expect a substantial report by 5pm on Sunday. Is that understood?”

“Yes.” There was a click in Tony’s ear, and he was left with a few seconds of dial tone, before the phone slipped out of his sweaty grasp and clattered across the floor. Tony had never responded well to ultimatums, had never responded well to threats. He had always pictured himself wrapped in a suit of armor – whether a medieval knight’s or one of his own creation – impervious to attacks. But when the attacks were aimed at those around him, when the armor caged him in and kept him from escaping to help the people he loved, Tony realized he was not invincible. Sometimes, the façade he built around himself was too high for even him to climb over.

Tony rubbed at his numb arm, getting to his feet only when his heartbeat no longer pounded in his ears. Pausing in front of the phone, Tony’s face contorted into an unrecognizable mask of wrath, and his foot slammed down onto it, shattering the screen. Stomping down again and again, destroying the phone quickly became cathartic -- he could easily picture Steve’s flip phone beneath his shoe. It was Steve who had backed Tony into this corner, and now he would have to fight his way out of it, for Pepper and Rhodey’s sakes, and for his own.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed quietly, but everything was far away to Tony. He felt as though he was standing at the opposite end of a long tunnel, looking through it and seeing Rhodey laugh his way through Vision’s excellent Jello dinner, seeing Rhodey embrace him and wish him goodnight before disappearing to his own room. The light in the tunnel cut out, and Tony found himself sitting alone in darkness on the couch, where he had been sat since dinner. Blinking, Tony glanced at his watch, it was approaching 1am, and he would have to be up early to get Rhodey to the hospital on time. Tony had every intention of going to bed, but he instead travelled down the stairs to the workshop, trusting his feet to carry him through the darkness, hand reaching out for the door. The bright, fluorescent lights of the workshop blinded him for a moment, before Tony’s arm flung up to block his eyes.

“Boss, you have an alarm set for 5.”

“Thanks for the reminder, FRIDAY, but I have work to do. I can’t stall on this any longer, not with Ross breathing down my neck and wielding a cleaver. This memory shit needs to be finished by Thursday. I want the time travel tech finalized, and then I need to… Be gone by Monday morning, I guess. I’m going to have to go back to Siberia to come up with something for this report. God, if I actually had to find Steve, it would take years – if he’s not in Wakanda, that is. Asshole’s good at hiding, he hid underwater for 70 years.”

“That doesn’t give you much time, boss…”

“I’m aware, but that’s why I have you. Three things. First, I need you to get back on the calculations that Bruce and I were trying to hammer down, find a way for the transistor to keep from crapping out… Second, scour for any sign of Steve – I don’t care if some Bulgarian blog post has him at the blogger’s yoga class, I’ll take what I can get. Third…” Tony picked up the glasses that he had thrown aside a week before, putting them on and setting the wires in place. “Third, and probably the easiest, I need you to record this. Can’t put my pros and cons up on the board anymore, so you’ll need to project them for me as I list them. There are really only two deaths left, and tonight’s is where I should stop. It solves everything… But we’ll get to that afterwards. October of 2008 can be the name for the new column, please. Have coffee ready for me when I’m done, I’ll have to get in the car after this.”

“That’s four things.”

“Oops, you got me.”

* * *

“Jesus, I feel awful,” Tony mumbled to himself as he hurtled through the sky towards Stark Industries, skin still dripping in cold sweat from his very real brush with death. The old arc reactor felt alien in his chest, blocky and heavy. It was almost as though he could feel the inefficient energy use struggling to push back the metal fragments that had crept dangerously closer to their target while Obie had practically skipped out of the mansion, a sadistic grin on his face.

“Sir, this chest piece isn’t designed for sustained flight. Power running at 48%.”

“48%, really? Feels more like 10%. Keep me posted.” Stark Industries was in sight, and Tony put on a burst of speed, intent on getting to Pepper before Obadiah could hurt her – in the past, Tony would have laughed at the idea of Obie hurting a fly, but it seemed that he never really knew Obie – and he was too far gone for Tony to underestimate him.

“Hey!” Tony’s tinny voice echoed off of the towering buildings that made up Stark Industries as he sped down from the sky, narrowly avoiding clipping the top of Pepper’s head as he slammed into the giant metal suit that had been towering over her. A cry of pain escaped him as he and Obie smashed through a building and careered onto the busy highway, the sounds of frantic honking and screeching tires filling the air as people swerved to avoid the rather major blockage on the road. _Well, Jim, we’re looking at major congestion on the interstate. Now over to Pam, with sports, those Yankees aren’t facing any congestion getting to the World Series, are they Pam?_

Tony groaned from where he lay sprawled across the pavement. The suit could muffle blows from fists, protect him from bullets, but he still came out bruised. He had never smashed through a building made of cement, steel, and glass before, and he had a feeling that this new patchwork of bruises would deserve a showing in the Met. Tony turned his head when he heard screaming, eyes widening when he saw the family inside of the sedan that Obie was holding over his head.

“Put them down, Obie,” Tony scrambled to his feet, raising his hands defensively, though it was a bluff – the repulsors would destroy the car and kill the people inside.

“Collateral damage, Tony!”

_Oh God, he’s gonna do it, Jesus – he’s going to kill them._ “Divert power to chest RT!” Gritting his teeth, Tony braced his feet against the ground as energy beamed out of the reactor and sent Obie flying backwards into a car. Tony’s small grin lasted for mere moments before he staggered back to catch the SUV flying through the air towards him. His knees nearly buckled, tarmac cracking under his feet, arms and back straining. _Oh, I’m gonna need a chiropractor._

“Power reduced to 19%.”

“Oh shit, okay. Okay.” Tony’s breathing labored as he fell to one knee, more screams erupting from the car. “I’ve got you, you’re o—no, don’t!” Tony was pushed up onto the hood of the car as it accelerated wildly, fingers digging into the metal as he desperately tried to cling onto it. _Today is not my day._

“Oh, shit.” Tony flew backwards off of the car, sparks flying as he was driven over, legs flailing under the bumper of the car as he tried to lift it so that he wouldn’t be stuck under the metalwork. Tony let out a loud exhalation as he was released, rolling over on the cracked asphalt, trying to catch his breath.

“Son of a bitch, would you cut it -.” Tony couldn’t finish his sentence, too preoccupied with the motorcycle that was thrown at him, knocking the wind out of him, vision going spotty as he collided with a car behind him. He didn’t even have time to get to his feet, Obie’s massive metal foot slamming him into a bus that was quickly being evacuated. Tony’s fingers scrabbled against the ground, searching for purchase, the HUD of his helmet fogging from his panting.

“For thirty years, I’ve been holding you up.” Obie lifted him into the air and Tony’s stomach dropped, closing his eyes as he was slammed into the ground. His hands struggled beneath the boot of Obie’s suit as the other man crushed him down through the tarmac, every joint was screaming in pain. When Obie lifted his foot, Tony was thankful to be thrown into the bus, not even minding the missile that soon followed – at least he was free, at least he could move.

Hovering in the air, Tony’s teeth ground against each other as he struggled against his failing power, arms waving wildly whenever the repulsors in his boots would cut out. There was no way that Obie’s suit could fly, it was too big, too heavy. At least he would be safe in the air, just out of Obie’s grasp – though, he had no plan, and he couldn’t just hover here for the rest of the night until Obie fell asleep.

“I’ve made some upgrades to your suit, Tony. I made it bigger, obviously, increased the weaponry, improved the repulsor tech…”

“Oh, fuck.” Tony could only watch in horror as sparks flew from Obie’s feet, and he was soon rocketing towards Tony, movements jerky – but he was definitely flying.

_Okay, so I’m not gonna hover for the rest of the night, I’m gonna fly. I can outfly him, he’s probably never been in the air in that thing, controls will be foreign… He’s never flown… he doesn’t know._

“J, take me to maximum altitude.”

“Sir, with power at 15%, the odds of reaching -.”

“I know the math, just do it!” Tony’s eyes fixed to the stars, like they had since his childhood, trusting that Obie would be up for the chase. He didn’t bother looking over his shoulder, though he vaguely wondered how much energy a suit that big would guzzle up… The reactor powering it wasn’t used to a suit that size. The roar of Obie’s suit was giving him a migraine, but Tony was incredibly grateful that Rhodey was keeping the sky clear, the last thing he needed was a third party getting involved in this. He could handle Obie on his own.

“13%, sir.”

“Honest to God, J, how much energy are you using up whenever you tell me the percent? Save it for when it’s really important.”

“But -.”

“Shut up and climb!”

Tony glanced at the power percentage projected on the HUD as they rose, the moon becoming larger and larger – and it was beautiful, even now as he was terrified and flying for his life, he had the overwhelming urge to damn the reactor and keep flying until he was in space, far away…

He was forcefully pulled from his daydream, a giant metal hand wrapping around his throat, Tony could hear the titanium alloy crunching, a piece of it forced inward, cutting the side of his neck.

“Nice try, Tony, but my suit is more advanced in every way.”

_God, what a prick._ “Really? How’d you solve the icing problem?” Warm blood trickled down his neck, and his vision was going around the edges, he needed to breathe, but he couldn’t.

“Icing problem?” Tony’s hands clawed at Obie’s, stopping when the LED of Obie’s eyeslits blinked out.

“Might want to look into it,” Tony said hoarsely, hand clenching into a fist, knocking at the top of Obie’s helmet.

Sucking in air, Tony watched in a tumult of triumph and agony as Obie plummeted down, down, down… _Sorry, Obie. But you left me no other choice, you were going to kill me…_

“2%.”

Tony let out a surprised shout, falling through the air, he couldn’t see anything except the moon and the stars as he fell. _Oh, this is ironic, this is definitely awful._

“Running on emergency backup power,” JARVIS’ voice was cool in his ears as the suit revved back into life, Tony managed to balance himself in the air before the repulsors cut out again.

“ _This_ is backup power?” It was a long struggle getting back down to the roof of the reactor building, especially when every time he was sure that the suit wouldn’t cut out again, it would cut out. “We really gotta work on that, J.”

_Boy, am I glad to be back at work._ Holding onto the metal girder that caged an AC unit, Tony caught his breath before speaking. “Potts, I’m almost out of power. I gotta get out of this damn suit.” Pepper’s frantic babbling calmed him down as he tore off one gauntlet, lifting the face plate of his suit and breathing in the cold night air. “I’m fine, I’ll be there in a sec – oh, fuck.”

The faceplate slid back into place, and Tony was back to breathing circulated air, dodging Obie’s slow punch. _Gotta hand it to him, he’s persistent._ Tony raised his hand, ready to blast Obie off of the roof, but the repulsor didn’t hum to life. Turning his hand around, Tony stared at his blank palm, cursing himself. _Don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched._ Tony had definitely counted his chickens, not expecting both of Obie’s hands to wrap around his middle, squeezing with a force that his suit could not compete against.

“Pressure breach.”

“Oh yeah, I feel it. Weapon status.”

“Repulsors offline.”

Tony glanced at the flickering HUD, that didn’t leave him with many options. Especially when running on a rapidly failing power supply. “Flares.” He wasn’t expecting much to come out of it, maybe Obie would at least loosen his grip – but he was let go of, falling to the roof. Tony scrambled to his feet, dashing across the roof and hiding behind the AC unit.

“Potts,” he whispered, even though Obie couldn’t hear him. _I can’t handle Obie on my own._ “Potts, this isn’t working. I need you to overload the reactor and blast the roof.” The instructions followed in a lower whisper, as Obie made his way towards the AC unit.

_Gonna have to grab the bull by the horns._ With a shout, Tony launched himself onto Obie’s back, one arm wrapping around his neck. He had caught glimpses of professional bullriding on late nights spent flicking through TV channels, and he was certain that this felt a lot like it, except Obie was deadlier than a bull.

“More advanced in every way? I don’t have exposed wires, which look important.” His fingers closed around thick cords, tearing them away from Obie’s helmet. Still holding them as he was slung around, Tony sucked in cold air again, watching his helmet crush in a flash of sparks in Obie’s fist. His head throbbed in agony when it hit the steel girder of the glass roof, the light of his father’s reactor below was blinding. _I’m gonna need a whole bottle of Excedrin. And a huge drink._

Looking down at himself, he saw that his one gauntlet was dark. _Out of juice. Out of weapons. No other choice._

Gunfire shattered the glass beneath him, striking his suit with sparks that hurt his eyes. His arms trembled as he held onto the girder for dear life, legs dangling over the reactor. It was a long drop.

“Hey, Pepper? Now would be a good time to hit the button.” Tony loosened his grip on the girder, fingers clutching at the metal as he hid his head from Obie’s ceaseless hail of bullets.

“Come here, you son of a bitch.” Obie stepped closer, trying to compensate for his ruined targeting system.

“But you’ll die!”

Tony closed his eyes, she was right. _No other choice._

“Just do it!”

The girder ripped from the roof as a massive pulse of blue energy beamed from the reactor below, launching Tony hundreds of feet into the air, body languidly flailing as he plummeted back to the roof. He lay motionless for a few moments, before his eyes shot open, rolling onto his side to see if Obie had fallen to the ground. Obie was a few feet away, though his part of the roof had caved in, he was moments away from falling to his death. He had removed the helmet, and Tony gazed into eyes that had always looked at him warmly, proudly.

“Tony.” Obie was begging, Obie was pleading.

Tony could remember being slung up onto Uncle Obie’s shoulders and paraded around Stark Industries. He could remember Obie teaching him to play chess, he could remember when he first beat Obie at chess – Obie had taken him out for ice cream after, always a good loser. He could remember Obie being pallbearer for Howard Stark as Tony stood opposite him, barely keeping hold of Maria Stark’s casket. He could remember Obie’s warm, fatherly embrace at the military hospital, he had flown there the minute he’d heard word from Rhodey that Tony had been rescued.

Reaching out, Tony’s hand wrapped around Obie’s straining one, pulling him up with all his might – which yielded no results, Obie’s suit was too heavy, and he couldn’t get out of it.

“Hold on, I’ll think of something.” _What am I doing?_ Obie had never loved him, his actions proved that – but maybe saving him would change his opinion, maybe he would come to appreciate Tony. Those happy memories with Uncle Obie weren’t false, and Tony couldn’t watch a man who had been a father to him when his own father wasn’t interested fall to his death.

“You sentimental little prick.” Obie’s grip around Tony’s hand tightened, crushing the bones in his grasp as he yanked him down towards him. The girders screamed in protest, Tony closed his eyes as he fell towards the reactor, still in Obie’s grasp.

“Tony!” Pepper Potts screamed, the reactor exploding as Obie and Tony crashed into it. Flames licked at the metal encasing his body, the light in his chest flickered twice, and then cut out for good.

* * *

“I should’ve tried to save him.” Tony slid the glasses into his pocket, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. His migraine was back with a vengeance, as was the grief that came whenever he revisited Obie’s death. “I know that he still would have tried to kill me, it’s what he always wanted. But I shouldn’t have just let him die like that, my dad wouldn’t have…”

Crumpling into the chair at his desk, Tony reached over for the hot coffee that had been prepared for him.

“Like I said before, this is the most advantageous death… What time is it?”

“It’s nearly 4.”

“Time flies… This is advantageous because it wraps everything up with a tidy bow. Obie… well, is no longer able to run Stark Industries, so there’s no danger of SI producing weaponry and selling it to the wrong people… I imagine both of our suits get destroyed in the blast, so there’s no danger of the government getting its hands on them. Pepper and Rhodey are safe… Maybe Pepper dates Coulson, I could see it happening… She would inherit SI, it’s in my will – I know she would bring about great stuff, change the world, she really is brilliant…”

He closed his eyes, recalling the sensation of Pepper’s lips against his, the way her green eyes would light up when she laughed.

“The cons are personal, selfish, even. I die, and no one knows that Tony Stark was Iron Man – no one knows that I changed. But there’s something bigger than that, you know? I would be dying before I give the world a sustainable power source. That type of thing could combat climate change, that has to be a positive, right? I mean, stopping climate change saves lives, it saves the future! And the Avengers… I would never get to meet… Not that I want to – but Steve wasn’t that bad, in the beginning, he was… he grew on me, there was a reason that he was my childhood idol. If I die in space, with the missile – that has positive outcomes. The Avengers form, and I know they wouldn’t fall apart without me. Without me, they would become something stronger, something truly impressive. A force for good. But that can’t… happen without me being the first domino, I’ll give myself that. This death is the ideal… but dying in New York, dying a hero… That’s how I would want to go out.”

“Tony?” Rhodey called down to the workshop. “Hey, are you down there? I woke up early, from a nightmare or something. Want to watch TV?”

Nodding, Tony clambered to his feet, sipping at his coffee as he walked to the door. “Wish him luck, FRIDAY.” _Please, let this work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are at the end of July, as promised. Thanks for sticking around! I definitely recommend studying abroad if you have the opportunity, it was a wild time.


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s actually really disconcerting that you’re driving with sunglasses on right now,” Rhodey reached forward towards the radio to change the song, only to have his hand knocked aside by Tony’s. “Oh, so I’m on my way to a groundbreaking surgery, God knows what could go wrong, and I’m not even allowed to pick my potentially final playlist?”

“You’re being a little worrier, Rhodey. It’s not even that dark out, the sun is coming up… in about an hour – not to mention, I have my headlights on. But if you were to put on your jazzy elevator music, I would fall asleep at the wheel.” Tony did adjust the volume, so that Beastie Boys was no longer blaring from the speakers. “Don’t talk like that, either – c’mon, when has my math ever been wrong?” There was a pause, before Tony turned the music off completely, glancing over at Rhodey in the dim light. “You’re not actually concerned, are you?”

“I think it’s a bit human to be worried about surgeries – I mean, you were shitting your pants when you had the arc reactor out – literally, you must have a sensitive stomach, Stark.”

“Don’t remind me,” Tony grumbled, rubbing at the scar left behind from the surgery through his shirt. “But that’s a good example, I worried about it a lot, and it all turned out okay. Not to mention the fact that I was the one who advised the surgeon on how to remove the arc reactor without killing me, and gave him the exact locations of where the shrapnel was. With me in charge, when has anything ever gone wrong?”

“I’ve been building my list for years, waiting for the day that you would ask me that question, and now it’s finally here -.”

“Rhetorical, definitely a rhetorical question. Me in charge has only brought about absolute destruction and catastrophe… a solid 45% of the time.”

“I think you’re shooting a little low, but since you didn’t sleep last night, I’ll let it drop. Though, that is another reason why you probably shouldn’t be driving me right now…”

“It was either I drive you or Vision fly you bridal style through the sky. I think you made the right choice.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice, you kinda puppy-dog-eyed your way into this.”

“I’m not going to refute that – but seriously, Rhodey, what are you worrying about? I don’t want you to go through with this if you don’t think that it’s a good idea. Please don’t say that you’re only doing this to shut me up.”

“Tony, I wouldn’t be risking my life in a car with you if it wasn’t worth it. I’m just worried… Hell, it’s not like I can become any _more_ paralyzed down there. It’s just… Other things. Like… something going wrong with the anesthesia, or my heart just giving out or… I’m not saying that I don’t trust your math, or I don’t trust you, but I’ve sort of gotten my hopes up about this. Like… My hopes are towering higher than your ego -.”

“Ouch.”

“Put some ice on it, it’ll be alright. I just don’t want to see those hopes shatter, you know? The leg-tech you’ve built is great, and I can walk and it’s…. But I’d like to _feel_ again, to walk without relying on some outside technology… So… That’s what I’m worrying about.”

The bright lights of Columbia Medical Center gleamed at the end of the already busy street, and Tony didn’t miss living in the city at all as he weaved between cars.

“Do you wanna go get cronuts before this?”

“I can’t eat anything – and cronuts, really? What is this, 2013?” Rhodey nudged him, grabbing at the door as Tony accelerated into a parking space. “Jesus, who the hell gave you your license?”

“A good looking blonde. Couldn’t flirt my way out of retaking the test, though. He was pretty adamant about the stop sign I blew through.” Tony put the car in park, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to face Rhodey completely. “I’m serious, we can drive outta here right now.”

“Wouldn’t make for a good story to tell at parties.” Rhodey opened his door, climbing out of the car with a rugged sort of grace, the metal attachments on his legs glinting in the rising sun. “C’mon, Tony, let’s go find out if your genius extends into the world of medicine.”

* * *

Tony Stark stood before the gallery window that allowed him to peer into the operating room, his arms crossed over his chest, a mass of barely concealed tension. His eyes, dark with worry, were hidden behind the lenses of his sunglasses – the last thing he wanted people to see was that he looked like death warmed over. Rhodey had been under the knife for an hour now, and he looked peaceful where he lay on the surgical bed. Tony’s eyes flicked from Rhodey, to the surgeon, to the surgical staff, over to the various computer monitors displayed over Rhodey’s head, to the right to stare at the anesthesiologist who had abandoned his magazine after Tony had removed his sunglasses to give him a piercing glare, and then back to Rhodey. His eyes were tired, sluggishly repeating the motions, until he caught sight of a nurse out of the corner of his eye.

“Excuse me,” Tony said with a smile, hoping to look somewhat warm and friendly.

“Oh, Mr. Stark – how can I help you?”

 _Rhodey told you he didn’t want you looming over him the entire time. Go get a coffee, or something. What do people do at hospitals?_ “Where can I find the chapel?”

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice was soft, and he nearly bumped into the window he was leaning against when he jumped. The nurse looked between the redhead and the brunet, wondering if Tony still wanted an answer to his question.

“You know what, never mind… Thanks, ma’am… Keep up the good work.” _Keep up the good work, really? This is embarrassing, absolutely mortifying._

Pepper stood by his side at the window, looking in at Rhodey with an oddly sad expression. Tony pinched at his arm beneath the sleeve of his shirt, but he wasn’t able to resist the urge to breathe in the scent of her perfume. _Great, now I feel sad._

“How was he doing this morning? I would’ve gotten here sooner, but traffic was awful…”

Conversations had never felt so forced and awkward between them before, not even on the day they had met. She had barged into his office declaring that his math was wrong, and had pepper sprayed Happy in the face for trying to remove her. She had been right, too, he’d screwed up pretty substantially on a budget estimation – he still wasn’t sure how.

“He was a little apprehensive… But I think he was in good spirits, he didn’t fall into my arms crying or anything, and he didn’t try to run for the door. He’s been out for a little over an hour, but you’ve not missed much. It’s pretty slow going, they have to get through his spine and his spinal cord without breaking anything… Better to be slow than sorry, is what I was told. 7 to 8 hours is what they expect.”

A beat, Tony was sweating under the bright lights, eyes blinking rapidly behind colored lenses.

“And how have you been?”

 _Pepper, if only I could tell you._ Rhodey had probably told her that he was a little on edge recently. She was treading lightly, and it killed him. He missed the honesty that had flowed easily between them – even missed how he had managed to tell her that he couldn’t give up Iron Man, that even though he loved her, he had to do the right thing… He wanted to be honest with her now, he wanted to tell her about everything that happened, to tell her that he was miserable without her, that he was being threatened by Ross, that his life was falling apart in his hands just like the Avengers had. Instead… “Me? I’m doing fine. I’ve been pretty occupied with getting ready for this,” _and killing myself over and over again_ , “and keeping Rhodey company. Things have been pretty quiet ever since Siberia.”

Pepper opened her mouth to speak, to probe, to question, and Tony would have none of that. He would lose his composure if she asked about Siberia, he was already on tenterhooks emotionally, running on no sleep and talking to someone who always saw right through his smoke and mirrors – Stark men were showmen til the end.

“How about you, how’s the company? I saw something pretty promising about you working with intelli-crops. You always had a green thumb.”

Pepper’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his stomach sank, she knew exactly what he was up to. But instead of ignoring his question and continuing with her own, like she might have done when they were dating, she humored him. That made him feel worse.

“I’ve been doing alright, work’s been keeping me busy. SI had a fantastic quarter, and I want to keep that up – but that means more hours spent in the office than at home.” _Home, where’s home, Pep? Not Stark Tower, not anymore._ “Green thumb? You don’t remember that orchid you bought me? I killed it within a week, and the garden center lady at Lowe’s told me it was very hard to kill an orchid, made me feel awful.” Pepper sighed, though she smiled slightly at the memory. “And then you bought me another one. But intelli-crops resist whatever death vibes I give out. We made leaps and bounds, and I made a goal for SI to contribute to reducing hunger in the United States on a large scale. Complete elimination is the ideal outcome, and I’d like to made it a worldwide initiative, but there’s been pushback from the board... We drafted an agreement with the government, and I guess we’ll see how it goes. I’m positive about it. With the advances we’ve made in green energy, and now intelli-crops, I really think that we’ve reshaped SI’s image.”

“You have.”

“What?”

Tony caught her glancing at him, and his eyes returned to the pattern: Rhodey, surgeon, assistants, monitors, anesthesiologist, Rhodey. _Oh God, am I actually blushing right now?_ “ _You’ve_ changed the face of Stark Industries. Hell, you should rename it to Potts Industries. You’ve been in charge of every step forward that the company’s made since I retired, I know you’re modest, Pep, but it’s credit that you deserve. Maybe I’ll stop by one of these days, I’d like to see the labs…” That was a lie, this interaction was painful enough, the reminiscing even more so. He needed to end the conversation, before he said something stupid and hurt her feelings. He was prone to doing that.

“I think I’m gonna go walk around a bit, maybe get a coffee or something. Do you want anything?”

Tony was already sidling away from her – _God, her perfume is intoxicating_ – relieved when Pepper shook her head.

“Do you mind calling me if anything happens? And don’t let that anesthesiologist get away with flipping through that magazine, it makes me nervous.”

“Sure thing, Tony.”

Satisfied that Pepper would keep her word, he turned down the hallway, inhaling sharply and grabbing at the first doorknob he saw once he was out of sight. Surrounded by mops, cleaning fluids, and paper products, Tony allowed himself to sink down onto the linoleum floor.

“Stop being pathetic, Stark. You can’t just spaz out in front of her, that’s definitely not going to win her back.” _Am I trying to win her back?_ There was nothing stopping him from walking back over to her, telling her everything, and begging for her to be with him again – to add a little stability to his disaster of a life. Except maybe his pride. “No, she’s better off without me. Getting close with her again gives Ross an easier way to manipulate me, and hurt her… Stop talking to yourself.” Tony took off his sunglasses, setting them on a shelf that held body fluid kits so that he could rub at his tired eyes. _Maybe I can drift off, just for a few minutes. Rhodey wouldn’t mind…_ The custodial closet was small, and even though Tony wasn’t very tall, his legs were still bent at the knee, feet planted against the opposite wall. He wanted to stretch out, and it didn’t help that something in his pocket was digging painfully into his hip. With a scowl, Tony pulled the obstruction out, staring at the glasses and the wires that dangled from them. _When did I put these in here? Last night?_ He could have sworn that he’d showered and changed clothes before coming to the hospital, but maybe he’d just seen someone doing that in the episode of Grey’s Anatomy he and Rhodey had watched before getting in the car…

With the faint scent of Pepper Potts’ perfume still in the air, Tony slid the glasses into place, attached the wires, and closed his eyes.

* * *

“Give me a scotch, I’m starving.” Tony leaned up against the bar as the bartender prepared his drink, surveying the crowd of people that flitted around the ballroom. Some were trying their hand at dancing, some were chatting off to the side, most of them had a drink in their hand. Tony didn’t recognize a single person. He’d never had to crash his own party before, and usually Pepper would have sent him the guest list for his approval before invitations were sent out. Tony had trawled through his overflowing email before he had allowed himself to get mad, there had been no notification that the benefit was happening – and sure, he could have been a little more proactive about it, but he had his hands full with the suit and tracking down his weapons…

He picked up the drink set down beside his elbow, shoving a wad of bills into the tip jar, before his eyes returned to the dancing couples, everyone was smiling.

“Mr. Stark? I’m Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, I spoke with your personal assistant about setting up an appointment but never heard back.”

Tony glanced over at the balding man to his right, he definitely looked like a Fed, the all black suit and constipated demeanor gave him away. “You need a new name for that.” As he turned his head, his eyes fell upon a beautiful redhead in a stunning blue, backless dress, and he nearly lost his grip on his drink when she turned to face him slightly. It was Pepper. Agent Coulson was talking to him still, but Tony was at a loss for words. Sure, Pepper had always been amazingly good looking, she could rock anything from pantsuits to pencil skirts. But this dress made her shine.

“I’m gonna go over to my assistant,” Tony set the glass down on the bar, gesturing vaguely towards the dance floor. “And we’ll make a date…” He didn’t pause to catch the man’s reply, elegantly falling in step with the music, appearing before Pepper, who blinked in surprise. She had reviewed the guest list, after all, and Tony’s name wasn’t on it.

“Wanna dance?”

“No, I don’t think that’s -.”

Tony’s arm wrapped around her waist, leading her out to the dance floor. People moved aside for them, and he caught a few venomous stares from women in the crowd. _I really need to work on remembering their names._ “It’ll be alright, I’m a very talented dancer.”

Pepper looked on the verge of panicking, though she relaxed slightly as his hands came to rest on her lower back. Swaying with him to the music, Tony grinned as she met his gaze.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m at this party, wearing this ridiculous dress -.”

“It’s a gorgeous dress -.”

“Dancing with my _boss_ , and I forgot to wear deodorant.”

He couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped him, turning his head slightly, catching a whiff of her perfume. The faint scent of citrus and sandalwood gave it away, he would be willing to bet that she was wearing Chanel No. 5.

“You look great, you smell great. And you’re a great dancer. I’ve never seen you dance before.”

“Because it’s embarrassing, that’s why I was loitering at the edge of the floor.”

“Mmm, why loiter in a dress like that? When’d you buy it?”

“You bought it, actually, for my birthday.”

“I have good taste.” Tony cocked his head slightly, devilish grin still very much present. “I could fire you, if it’d take the edge off.” She was blushing, and Tony had the sudden desire to count every freckle on her skin, of which she had many. He wondered where else she had freckles…

“Really, fire me? I don’t think you could tie your shoes without me.”

“I’ve been doing pretty good on my own… I think I’d last a week.” He was being generous, he’d last until his refrigerator was empty and he found himself in a grocery store with no idea what he ate regularly.

“A week, really? What’s your social security number?”

Tony opened his mouth to protest the question, how often did he really need to know his social security number? But then again, Pepper was always slaving over paperwork, she probably had to write it down every time. Thinking back to when he applied to MIT, Tony’s brows furrowed in concentration, he’d written it down on his application… Decades ago.

“Five.” There was definitely a five at the beginning, he’d put it in the wrong place and spilled whiteout all over himself trying to correct his mistake.

“Five?” Her smile was radiant, and Tony felt a little weak in the knees. Some singer was crooning in the background, and this definitely felt like Rhodey’s jazz music that he’d listened to while studying. Maybe he did have good taste… “You’re missing just a couple of digits.”

“Right, the other eight.” He knew that much about social security numbers. He spoke the next sentence very boldly, without much forethought. “I’ve got you for the other eight.”

Pepper’s eyes flicked to his lips, and then she looked over his shoulder, out into the crowd. Everyone was staring at them, and Tony watched as she turned bright red, panic seeping into her green eyes.

He stopped swaying then, someone jostled into his shoulder, but he didn’t pull his gaze away from Pepper. “How about some air?”

“Yes, that would be great, thank you.”

Tony pulled one arm away, but one remained wrapped around her waist as they maneuvered through the crowd towards the open French doors that led to the balcony. The cold night air was refreshing compared to the stuffy ballroom, and Tony let his arm drop as Pepper hurried over to the marble banisters of the balcony.

“Oh, God, what am I doing?” Pepper practically moaned, covering her face with her hands. “Everyone saw me with you, dancing like that – I looked like an idiot. And everyone knows who you are and how you are with girls, not that that’s a bad thing or any of their business – but I don’t want them to think that I’ve fallen for your… Charm. They’ll all make jokes about it at work tomorrow…” She trailed off as she felt Tony’s warm hand on the small of her back, peeking through her fingers at him.

“I think you’re overstating, that’s all. It was just a dance, no one is going to read into it. I’m not reading into it, are _you_ reading into it?” His brown eyes were wide, and he was definitely employing his best puppy-dog expression, though Pepper Potts had long since grown immune to it ( _No, Tony, you cannot fill the pool with Jello. I don’t care how cool you think it would be, it would be messy_ ).

“But we were dancing like _that_.”

Tony inched closer to her, his other hand moving to rest on her hip while her hands fell away from her face. It was definitely Chanel No. 5, and his eyes met hers, seeing how the stars reflected in them. There were no words to describe how beautiful she was, and Tony worried in the back of his mind that he had fallen for her. When? Maybe when she had waited on the tarmac for his plane to land, her eyes red from crying, but unable to stop smiling when she looked at him. Or when her hands had been in his chest, and she had been inches away from killing him, but he trusted her implicitly. Or perhaps it had been on the day they met, when she had somehow whipped out pepper spray on his bodyguard, alight with a fiery passion that Tony could not help but be drawn towards. _It doesn’t matter, I’m screwed._

“Mm, like what?”

Pepper’s lips parted as Tony closed the gap between them, her hands grasping at his shoulders as he kissed her gently. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he held her a little closer just as her fingers dug into the fabric of his jacket. Her lips were just as soft as he imagined them to be, and he felt like he was in high school, hidden under the bleachers and sneaking his first kiss. He’d never felt this nervous kissing someone before, and that made him worry about falling for her even more. When they pulled away, Tony was slightly breathless and Pepper looked stunned.

“I…” Her fingers played with the collar of his jacket, before moving to brush against the skin of his neck, her touch feather light over a scar left behind from his time in Afghanistan. A little souvenir from having a knife pressed against his throat. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his mouth was dry, and _holy shit, do I have goosebumps?_ “I’d like a vodka martini, please.”

Tony blinked uncomprehendingly as her hands pulled away from him. Where was he going to get her a drink? His eyes travelled to the door, looking in and seeing the party that was still going on. Time hadn’t stopped, apparently, he hadn’t been transported to a different place when he kissed her. He was at a benefit for the Firefighters’ Family Fund. _Right._

“Yeah, of course. I can get you one... Anything else?”

“Very dry, with olives,” Pepper licked her lips, her cheeks were flushed. Tony pulled his hands away, letting them fall to his sides. “Lots of olives, like at least three olives. As many olives as they can fit into the glass.”

“Lots of olives, very dry. You’ve got it, I’ll be right back.”

Tony glided across the dance floor, smoothly weaving his way between couples, acknowledging people who greeted him, and smiling so hard that his cheeks were hurting. Sure, it had been shitty to gatecrash his own party, and sure, Obie had brushed him aside like he was an annoying fly buzzing around his ears. But he’d just kissed Pepper Potts – and she had kissed him back! Neither of them had freaked out, he was getting them both drinks, and maybe they would have to talk about what had happened, but maybe after that they would kiss some more… And maybe after that, he would ask if he could take her out to dinner this week – a proper birthday dinner four months after the fact.

“Two vodka martinis, extra dry, extra olives, extra fast.” Tony fumbled with his wallet, dropping it on the floor and disappearing below the bar for a few moments to pick it up. He managed to do so just in time, Christine Everhart didn’t catch sight of him as she circled the dance floor. Back on his feet with a sheepish grin, Tony crammed the remaining bills in his wallet into the overflowing tip jar.

“Great night, huh?” He asked, watching the bartender fill the martini glasses. “Great night. Fantastic night. Hey, can you give that one a few more olives? She said at least three but I think she meant like… Six. Yeah, that’s beautiful. Thank you. Give your name to whoever’s in charge, tell ‘em Tony Stark wants you bartending at all of his events.”

Holding the martini glasses close to his chest, Tony dove back into the crowd, not wanting to lose a single olive in his struggle to get back to the balcony. Stepping back over to her confidently, he nearly lost his step when she turned to look at him, but she was smiling. Maybe her smile was a little fearful, a little anxious… but then her eyes flicked to his lips again, and Tony knew that she would get over it.

* * *

Tony jerked the glasses away, ignoring the flares of pain from where the wires were viciously torn off of his scalp. One of the lenses cracked as it collided with the solid wood of the door. Tony’s shaking hands rose to press against his face, hunching over as he sobbed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed this, you needed this... we All needed this.


	6. Chapter 6

Escaping the hospital had been a task that Tony thought would be near impossible, but proved opposite – the moment Rhodey took a few halting steps with the biggest grin on his face, Tony knew that he could no longer allow himself to be with his friend, as much as he desperately wanted to be. He made a weak excuse about wanting to go home and get some rest, and Rhodey had been very understanding. In fact, Tony was sure that he could’ve mentioned his real plan to Rhodey, and he doubted that the other man would’ve really heard him. The surgery had been a brilliant success, despite the fact that most of the muscles in Rhodey’s legs had already begun to atrophy, and the physical therapy appointments that had been booked for the remainder of the year – Tony would never forget how the other man’s face had lit up when the doctor had nudged his foot when walking by the end of his bed. Rhodey was on cloud nine, and he deserved it – hopefully Tony would make it so he was never in this position in the first place.

The compound was emptier than usual, Vision had left to visit Rhodey at the hospital, bringing him the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find at the florist – Vision being in a florist had attracted some raised eyebrows, and the only thing that kept him from being kicked out had been the wad of cash in his hand. Tony was still sneezing occasionally from the pollen. Pacing around the kitchen, Tony waited for the coffee to finish trickling into the pot, switching intermittently from talking to himself to talking to FRIDAY.

“Pepper knew I was up to something, I have limited time before someone comes busting down the door… Whether it’s Pepper or Ross, I won’t know. You should’ve seen the look on his face, FRIDAY, it was almost like that Christmas when I got him his Audi. But better, obviously, recovering from paralysis is better than receiving a cool present. Rhodey would never ask me for a car, but every time he was in the garage, he would spend at least five minutes cooing over them – cute at first, then annoying when I was trying to have a conversation with him. As much as my cars enjoyed the attention, I wanted him to be able to do that to his own cars… And it cut his cooing time in half. He didn’t even give me shit for getting him something so expensive – we swore off Christmas presents in college, thought it was better to just buy each other drinks every so often.” He whirled around immediately when the sound of trickling ceased, filling up a battered Stark Industries mug with bitter black coffee, before moving across the room to the lounge. Tony rather effortlessly hopped over the crater in the floor, he hadn’t gotten around to getting it fixed – what was the point when the compound wasn’t going to exist in a few days, anyways?

“How are we coming around with leads on Ste – Rog-Captain America?” Tony glowered into the crater as he stumbled over his words, Captain America was safe, it was almost like he was chasing after a fictional character. Steve might as well be fictional, with the way he had disappeared off the face of the planet.

“I ran facial recognition through all the systems we have access to, and a few more that we didn’t -.”

“’Atta girl.”

“And came up with about three hits. They all hover at being 75% matched… None of them are Captain Rogers, boss, but if you wanted to chase after each of them… It would put you all over the world: Italy, Chile, and Ethiopia.”

“Ethiopia’s too close to where I think he really is. I don’t want to actually help Ross.” Tony settled down at the edge of the crater, letting his feet dangle over the drop. Pitching himself off of it would be the easy way out, _the coward’s way out._ It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would get him out of having to deal with Ross… Tony pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, throwing himself off would only save his future, no one else’s.

“There are other matches, at lower percentages, if you really wanted to put him on a wild goose chase.”

“I’ll take what I can get, FRIDAY. He’s only going to have my report for at maximum a day before it should literally disappear from his desk. If he still has a desk… I don’t know if he would even be Secretary of State in this new future you and I are building. Maybe. Wipe Ethiopia off the list. Anything relatively close to Wakanda can go, hell anything in all of North Africa, just to be safe. Ross probably suspects Wakanda to begin with, but he doesn’t have authorization to enter the country, and I don’t want to give him even the tiniest justification for an illegal raid.”

“The list now includes over twenty five locations.”

“Can you put the facial recognition pictures beside each location? Maybe blur ‘em a bit, to make it all the more possible that it’s…” The image that corresponded with Italy was projected in front of Tony, and he spun it around to inspect every angle. “This could be Steve… If you just squinted until your eyes are closed. Can you edit out that birthmark on his neck? Captain America has not a single bodily imperfection, according to Dad’s ravings… Okay, that works a little better, now I’m just squinting until my eyes are halfway shut. Jesus.” Tony ran his hands over his face and through his hair, frustrated. “Can’t you find me some more All-American looking blonde guys around the world? I mean, this list works for what it is… But maybe compile a list of profile shots, look up Captain America’s stats in his file but basically… Find me some blondes with killer biceps who tower over most people in a crowd. He wears baseball caps when he’s trying to look inconspicuous, so throw a few of those in.”

Tony tipped the rest of his coffee into the crater, listening for the far away sound of the liquid splattering against the dirt. “At least it’s not empty anymore. I’ve kinda made this a wishing well… With coffee.” Fishing his wallet out of his pocket, Tony withdrew a quarter and stared for a moment at the eagle adorning the back. “What could it hurt?” He flicked the quarter into the air and watched it as it spiraled down into the crater. _Please let me be doing the right thing._ Getting to his feet, Tony pulled the glasses from his pocket, inspecting the lens he had cracked in the custodial closet at the hospital.

“This’ll still work, right?”

“The lens is cracked, but the technology imbedded in the frame is fully operational.”

“Well then, sweetheart, I’ll be down in the ‘shop. I’ve got one last death to attend to, and then we can get on with the show. Are any of the suits ready for a flight to Siberia?”

“Mark 16 is fully operational and has been restored to the jet.”

“Great. I’ll send the jet to the base in Italy, while I go out for a brief jaunt in Siberia.” Tony glanced at his watch as he took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the way his heart was pounding in his chest once he reached the bottom. _I’ve always had a weak heart ever since Afghanistan. It can get over a couple of stairs._ “Have that list ready for me by 7. Hopefully Ross’ll be too busy with his dinner to keep an eye on the compound. And if not, I’m just zipping off to Italy for a bit of sunny star-spangled stalking, just like he asked… Ordered.” With that, Tony rubbed gently at the still-sore patches of skin on his scalp, applying the wires with delicate care, taking one last deep breath before being plunged into chaos.

* * *

“Aliens, from space, wanting to kill us!” Tony spoke with breathless excitement as he narrowly missed flying straight through a skyscraper, which was lit up in flames – like most of midtown Manhattan was at the moment. “I mean, I always believed in aliens. We’re in such a big universe, you know, how could we be the only living things? Then you’ve got Thor and Loki, and they aren’t from here, but they sure look like us – these sonsabitches, though, they _look_ like aliens. You think they have their own language? How advanced do you think they are? Are there more species, do they have their own like… intergalactic senate?”

“Sir.” JARVIS warned him, cutting him off just as he was beginning to form a rapid list of questions. Two Chitauri slammed into Tony, knocking him out of the sky. The suit crashed into the tarmac and Tony groaned, rolling onto his back in the crater his body had created so that he could blast the chariot the Chitauri were riding. He watched unenthusiastically as the two metal clad aliens plummeted to the ground, scrambling to their feet a few yards away from Tony.

“These guys just don’t quit,” he complained, repulsors whining as he riddled the aliens with blast after blast. “I mean, I’ll take these two out, and then there are four more of ‘em. What do you think they know about Earth? Has Loki told them that we’re a threat to their existence, or do you think they just want us out of the way? I’d want us out of the way too, we’ve probably been getting a bit too close for comfort with all of our space exploration… Stark Industries is guilty of it too, that last probe was really onto something before it had that mechanical failure. What if it wasn’t a failure, though, what if it was intentional?!” _Fuckin’ aliens._

“Sir, I am logging these questions for you for future reference, but I really do advise that you stay focused.”

“Focused s’mocused,” Tony replied swiftly as he barreled into a hoard of Chitauri, giving Clint just enough time to run for cover and provide him with some backup arrowfire as he struggled to stay in the air. Every weapon system he had was active, but he was rapidly running out of ammunition. “This is just _great_ ,” he snarled, ripping off one of the Chitauri’s helmets, reaching out and yanking its head to the side until he heard a brutal crack. “And to think, Dad always laughed at me for getting freaked out by alien invasion movies. We’re never ready for them.”

“I have a live nuke headed towards Manhattan.” Fury’s voice was tired, resigned, and old. As if he’d aged twenty years in the course of the battle, which Tony found very relatable. “Due to explode in two minutes. It’s over, folks.” _No. I am not about to be killed by a nuclear bomb when there are **aliens** invading the Earth. That’s lame as hell. _

“Hold that thought, Nick. J, where’s the nuke?”

“Coming in hot over the East River.”

“Get me there.”

Tony gritted his teeth, the joints of his suit groaning in protest as it took off towards the river. The nuke was in sight, a dot rapidly hurtling towards him, leaving a streamlined trail of smoke behind it.

“J, is there any way to keep comms open and make a phone call?”

“Of course, sir, I can open two channels of communication.”

“Call Pepper for me, would you? I’ve got something I want to tell her.”

For a few seconds, the only sounds he can hear are the dial tone and the wind whistling past the suit. _Please pick up, Pep. C’mon, pick up. I never call you when you’re in the air, c’mon._

Natasha’s voice interrupted him from his thoughts. “I can close it. I can close the portal. Does anybody copy?”

Tony sighed exasperatedly, closing the portal would’ve been a brilliant plan before Fury’s higher-ups had decided that just _fucking wiping out all of Manhattan_ would be a better idea.

“Do it!” Steve’s command made his ears ring, and Tony shook his head, extending his arms.

“No, don’t. I’ve got a nuke coming in, you heard Fury. It’s going to blow in… Less than a minute, now.” He let out a surprised shout as his suit made contact with the nuke, his arms wrapping around it, teeth chattering together from the force of the missile as it hurtled towards the skyline. “I know just where to put it.”

“You’ve reached the phone of Pepper Potts,” his own voice greeted him cheerily, but in a hushed whisper – as if he was afraid of getting caught. He had changed Pepper’s voicemail a few days before, and the fact that she hadn’t figured it out yet proved how busy she was in D.C. “She’s probably getting laid right now, so she can’t get to the phone – it’s unfortunately a regular occurrence once you move in with your boyfriend. Leave her a message at the tone, she’ll get back to -.” “Tony, what are you doing in there?” Pepper’s voice, from far away, and Tony smiled when he heard it. “She’ll get back to you as soon as she can. If you’re me, leave her a sexy message to spice up her boring work day.” “Tony – is that my phone?”

“Stark, you know that’s a one way trip.” Steve’s spoke over the tone, serious, mournful. About as prepared as Tony was for him to die. _Just laying down on the wire, don’t mind me._

“Yup. Save whatever’s left for the turn, J. It’s gonna be a close one.” The tone ended, and Tony’s eyes traveled to Pepper’s projected image on the HUD.

“Hey, honey, it’s me. I’m about to do something really, really stupid. You probably won’t forgive me for it, but I hope you do. I know I bitched about you leaving, but boy, am I glad that you’re out of town. I wouldn’t want you to get caught up in this.” Stark Tower was becoming larger in front of him, and he glanced quickly between Pepper’s picture and the target, as if he was torn. “Nukes are about as heavy as they look, and who knows what sort of radiation I’m getting right now. Probably better that I don’t have to deal with that. See, I’m looking on the bright side, told you I’m not negative all the time... I’m glad you didn’t pick up, sweetheart, I don’t know if I’d be able to keep myself together if you were there, listening.” He cursed loudly as he angled the missile skyward, the drag on his suit was strong enough that he nearly lost his grip on the slippery metal, and he let out a terrified laugh as he scraped against the side of Stark Tower. He followed the beam of the portal as close as he could, sweat stinging in his eyes. “I should’ve said it a lot sooner, but I feel like you already know. I’m gonna say it now, but don’t think that I’m only saying this because I’m about to -.” The wormhole was massive, he was almost there… This was it. “I love you so much, Pepper. Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t squander my fortune on Louboutins. You can if you want, those shoes have always looked fantastic on you.” He sucked in a breath, his stomach dropping as he pushed through the sky and into darkness. “I gotta go now, sweetheart. I love you.” The call dropped just as he said “love” and he closed his eyes for a long moment, the light of the HUD flickered through his eyelids, JARVIS spoke sluggishly.

“Sir…” _Goodbye to you too, buddy._ Tony thrusted forward with the last reserves of power, holding on to the nuke with all of his might, he wanted to guide it as close to the middle of the chromosome shape that held his focus. Oxygen levels in the suit rapidly declined, it had suffered a few pressure breaches during the battle, and was nowhere near prepared for a possibly-intergalactic gallivant to save humankind as he knew it. He was panting, trying to suck in as much air as possible as his vision blurred around the edges. The nuke in his hands suddenly became too much to carry, the vibration made his head ache, his hands couldn’t keep a proper grasp. Tony Stark had learned at a young age when it was best to let go, and now was one of those times. His eyes, wide with possibility ( _this is space, this **is** space_), watched unblinkingly as the missile sped towards the alien’s base. The light was almost blinding when the missile struck home, and Tony closed his eyes as the blast propelled him back towards the wormhole. He fell for what felt like hours, turning his head slowly to look at the wormhole – he could see Stark Tower, if only his suit was working, he would be able to reach it in just a few seconds. Stark Tower and the rest of New York City disappeared suddenly, and with a force no longer pulling him back towards Earth, Tony stopped falling. Panic overwhelmed him, he shouldn’t have given that last burst of speed, it had destroyed his chances of returning to Earth. Oxygen-thin air seared his lungs, Tony rolled onto his stomach, watching debris as it floated by him through space. His eyes searched unfamiliar stars, hoping to find at least one constellation that he knew. It was all alien, he felt none of his usual warm affection towards space. Space was cold. He closed his eyes as his vision became blurrier, his oxygen-starved brain was admitting defeat. He was going to die here.

“C’mon, King Arthur needs moon rocks!” Tony was five years old, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, holding a knight action figure up in the air. Far below on the wooden floor sat a hodgepodge that represented the kingdom of Camelot, with action figures that varied from GI Joes, to a kingly fellow that Tony had dubbed King Arthur, to a Barbie doll that served as Guinevere. Tony wasn’t quite sure why King Arthur needed moon rocks; maybe just to impress the Knights of the Round Table, maybe to show up Lancelot, who knew. The knight was trying valiantly, the moon was very far away, distant even from Tony’s window, and his arms were only so long…

“What the hell are you doing?” Tony jumped as his father appeared at his doorway, but the knight remained held loftily in the air. “Your mother’s been calling you down to dinner for the past five minutes.”

Howard Stark was never usually present for dinner, and normally whatever was left for him in the fridge remained untouched. Tony stared up at his father, gesturing with his free hand to the knight.

“I was…”

“If I catch you playing with those stupid things and ignoring your mother again, I’ll wale you. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.” Tony got to his feet, the knight clattered to the floor and unceremoniously knocked over King Arthur. He trudged past his father, who gave him a disappointed glare as he went to his office and shut the door behind him.

Tony wished for a better memory to have in his last moments, but he had always been skilled in making do with what he was given. Floating languidly through space, clad in his own suit of armor, Tony would’ve given anything to fall back down to Earth.

* * *

The glasses were set very gently on the computer desk, and Tony sat in silence with his hands clasped at his knees. He was sleep deprived and antsy, but he had found the solution. New York, despite still resulting in casualties, would yield the best results. The Avengers would band together after the death of a teammate, they would probably find some recruits to fill his spot. Perhaps the government would not come down as hard as it had on them, since they had lost one of their own… Of course, one death was nothing compared to hundreds – but maybe grief would be a unifier. Pepper would get that voicemail; she would never have to wonder how he truly felt about her – if she was just an outlier in his long list of typically short relationships. She was it for him, at least he would leave her with that. Not to mention the sizeable amount of money, but his fortune had never blinded Pepper, she had always been able to cut through his bullshit. She, Rhodey, and Happy – they had all been _real_ with him _._ He was bequeathing them a better future, one without him in it. At least he had seen space, had voyaged to a frontier that man had never stepped foot in. His body would never be recovered, but there was something both beautiful and terrifying about that. Terrifying in that he would never return home, terrifying in that Pepper would bury an empty coffin, terrifying in that his legacy might be forgotten without him overseeing it. But beautiful in that he was getting to do what he had always yearned to do, exploring the unknown, pushing mankind to new heights, going where no one had been before. He would just be dead doing it. Who knew, maybe an Asgardian would pick up his floating corpse, attracted to the bright red and gold armor. The universe was huge, the odds were tiny – but Tony was never one for odds.

Religion had become a difficult topic for Tony once he reached adulthood. Maria Stark had been a strict Catholic, and Tony had happily accompanied her to Sunday Mass every week. Whenever wintertime rolled around, Tony was always happy, given the amount of presents he received. Tony celebrated Hanukah with his dad’s side of the family, and Christmas with his mother’s side – and that was all well and good until his parents died and he had his own brush with death. After that, he had stopped to consider what he truly believed. In the end, he wasn’t sure what he believed in. Tony was a man of facts, so the very idea of faith was something that he struggled with. However, Tony still caught himself engaging quietly in acts of Catholicism. He murmured Hail Marys to himself in the middle of missions, when the outcome wasn’t looking good. He visited cathedrals around the world, and always made sure that he stopped to cross himself and gave himself a little splash of holy water immediately after entering. Rhodey had sat with him in their dorm and watched as the new Pope was announced on television, and he hadn’t questioned why Tony was watching it. That past Christmas Eve, Pepper had woken up to find Tony’s eyes glued to the TV, watching as the Pope gave Midnight Mass. She had stayed up for the duration of it with him, and had given him a sleepy kiss before falling back asleep. Tony had taken this religious turmoil and bottled it up, turning instead to futurism, believing that looking forward would always yield tangible results. This project itself was an act of futurism, and Tony was ready to embrace the consequences that came with it – he was acting for the greater good. And yet...

He stood before one of the metal workbenches, clearing off the top of it and then falling to his knees. Tony rested his elbows on the dusty surface of the workbench, pressing his hands together, his face a contortion of a sneer at his own actions, and an expression of terrible need for someone to be listening.

“FRIDAY, I would appreciate if you would… tune this one out. I’m about to be embarrassing.”

His head throbbed as he waited for her response, and at least he would never have to deal with another electromagnetic headache. The pluses were adding up.

“Of course, boss. The jet is waiting for you on the tarmac, I informed them that you would be leaving shortly.”

Tony nodded, unfolding his hands so that he could press his fingers against his eyelids until he saw stars. _I can’t believe I’m doing this right now._

“Dear… What am I doing? Am I even allowed to pray to you? Who _are_ you, anyways?” Clenching his hands in frustration, Tony knocked his fists against the metal workbench before trying again. “Alright… Should I start with an Our Father? Or should I just skip introductions all together? I know who you are, sort of, and you know who I am – though maybe you don’t… I’ve done some pretty important things, but I don’t pretend that I’m important enough for God to know about. Is that cool, if I call you God? Not that you’d answer, you’ve never answered. Which is why I don’t do this.” Another frustrated punch to the workbench before his hands returned to being folded in prayer, his knuckles smarting. “Okay. I’m just going to assume that you’re listening, and I’m going to go for it. I haven’t attended confession in a while, so there might be a bit of that in this prayer I’m throwing up at you. I figure informal is good with us, right? I’m about to kill myself – but not really kill myself, I know how you don’t really like that sort of thing -- I’m just doing a little tinkering to the time line, but there’s no time for formality I’ve done some really shitty – look, throw that one in with the confessions, cut me a little slack – I’ve done some shitty things in my life. Those shitty things have added up to what I’m dealing with now, and I know that I should maybe just grin and bear it, suffer the consequences, be penitent… whatever. But that wouldn’t change the fact that people have died because of me, because I was so caught up in… in trying to do the right thing that I actually was doing the wrong thing. That isn’t the case here, of course, I’ve thought for a long time about doing something like this. I’ve mapped out the pros and cons, and listen to me, trying to rationalize something to God.” Tony let out a pained laugh, tempted to punch the workbench again. “All I’m asking… I’m not really sure what I’m asking… Strike me down where I sit if I’m doing the wrong thing? But that won’t solve anything. I guess I’m sort of begging you the same thing I begged my makeshift wishing well… _Please_ let me be doing the right thing here. Don’t let this be another one of my massive screw-ups. It’ll look bad on me as well as you, so there’s some incentive for you to be overseeing this one…”

Tony anxiously gestured his hands skyward, unsure of how to end his prayer. Closing his eyes, he fell back on what he was first taught by Maria Stark, a little bit of structure would help tidy everything up. “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” _Give me a shout if this isn’t your will, pal._ “Give us this day our daily bread...” _I’m listening, a shout would be great right about now._ “And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…” _Steve._ “And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.” _Even if it’s an evil of my own creation._ “Amen.” Tony crossed himself, and waited to feel something, _anything._ Greeted by nothing but the familiar emptiness that came whenever he sought out a higher power, he sighed deeply.

“Well, FRIDAY, it was worth a shot. Tell them wheels up in fifteen minutes, I’m on my way.” _I’m afraid I disagree with your brimstone and fire version, God-Our-Father-buddy-pal_. _Hell is cold._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I anticipate one more chapter, and I have a feeling it might get a little long... I'd love to hear your thoughts as we draw close to the end!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said one more chapter... surprise, it's two! The semester started, and I sort of lost track of time, so apologies. Enjoy!

Tony Stark did not return to the Avengers Compound until early Saturday afternoon – he had found the jet to be a comfortable working environment, for both his time travel machine and for the report he had drafted for Thaddeus Ross. The flight attendants were very understanding, and when he politely declined offerings of food, they stopped trying to talk to him. It took two trips to Siberia before he actually entered the Soviet compound. The first visit, Tony had stood in the snow for an hour, staring up at the concrete behemoth, trying to psyche himself up enough to go inside. _You’re just going inside to get some evidence, maybe collect a little blood, something that you can track. Blood’s good, Steve takes a little spill or starts a brawl, maybe there are a few whispers that it might’ve been him, wham, you can confirm it… Not that you’re going to track anything, you’re going to disappear. But just in case that doesn’t work… There’s no one inside – alive, anyways -, nothing’s going to jump out at you. Go in._ In the end, he’d flown to Italy to meet up with the jet, hating himself more with every mile that passed. The sun and sea had done wonders on his mood, and he’d finally put together the machine that was going to send him back to the Battle of New York. It wasn’t a headset – Bruce Banner had been right about that, there had simply been no way to fit the technology into something so small. What had taken shape instead was what Tony referred to as his tanning bed, though casket would be more apt. It was made mostly of steel and glass, with a glass lid so that he could see out of it – Tony really didn’t like being in enclosed spaces that weren’t the suit – and the inside was a mess of wires. Some of the wires would attach to various places on his body, the rest he just hadn’t had time to hide away in the interior. He didn’t care that it looked sloppy, time and space would gobble it up, no one would know of its existence except him. Once he had finished building it, Tony had focused his attention on his report for Ross. It totaled 50 pages, and Tony was quite pleased with the amount of bullshit he’d been able to pack in every line, FRIDAY had proofread it and deemed it passable. It wouldn’t matter anyways, but just in case his grand plan fell to pieces, it was always good to have a backup. With his work complete, Tony then found himself unable to enjoy his limited time at the seaside, his failed visit to Siberia was eating away at him. So, he begrudgingly sent the jet to Chile while he went back to Siberia, planning on meeting up with the jet on its return trip to New York, somewhere over US airspace. Mark 16 was a stealth suit, capable of evading detection from any wandering eyes – Tony was confident that Ross wouldn’t catch on.

His second visit to Siberia went smoother. Tony had flown through the open doorway of the building instead of landing and walking in, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of going inside if he was already in motion. Once inside, he had gone straight to where the terrible fight had taken place, hurrying through the room that held the giant glass cylinders, looking anywhere but at the bodies of the Winter Soldiers that were slowly rotting away. The bullets that Zemo had used had punctured through the glass, breaking the vacuum of the tubes, exposing the bodies (however minutely) to the elements, and the room was starting to smell of decay. Tony had stood for a long moment surveying the exterior room, the blood spatters that covered the floor, the blast marks that had scorched the walls. He could remember the fight very vividly, and when his gaze had fallen on the shattered helmet he had left behind, he’d nearly had a panic attack. Breathing heavily, Tony had collected blood samples around the room, scraping the flaky dried substance into glass vials with shaking hands. Hopefully, some of it would be Steve’s, but he had a feeling that most of it was Barnes’ or his own. Then, with sweat stinging in his eyes, he hovered in the air in preparation for leaving the compound. Tony’s hands clenched into fists, and he resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to leave just yet. There was one more thing that he wanted to collect, hopefully whatever agency had drawn the straw for doing the follow-up investigation had swept over it unknowingly. With the air filtration system of the suit on the highest setting, Tony’s heavy footsteps thudded through the eerily silent room, the corpses did not protest his perhaps insensitive haste as he jogged past them. The door to the small blast room Zemo had been hiding in was wide open, which wasn’t a good sign. Slightly relieved that he would find nothing, Tony was unpleasantly surprised when his hand grasped the roll of film. Turning it over to inspect the Russian script on the label, the HUD offered him a translation that he didn’t need. December 16th, 1991. _I don’t want anyone else seeing this, stumbling upon it – she deserves better._

“Is there any way that I can transport this?”

“You could put it back in its case, there’s enough room in the storage unit if you’re okay with leaving behind some weaponry.”

Tony nodded, the storage compartment of the suit stretched across his abdomen, it usually held backup ammunition, he had no idea how the film was going to fit, but FRIDAY was never wrong. Packing the footage back into its protective plastic case, Tony watched as the suit opened up, reaching inside to withdraw some small missiles and variously sized bullets. It was a tight squeeze, and he was unable to bend over – limited mobility would be a problem if he was planning on engaging in combat, but Tony was hoping for an easy ride back home.

He flew out of the compound in a rush, willing away the images of his mother being strangled every time he blinked. On the flight back to the jet, Tony had put the suit on autopilot and blasted his favorite music, ignoring his heart palpitations and the way that his body was trembling. _It’s the cold Stark, you’ve got weak circulation, it’s just the cold_.

Now, he was standing in the kitchen of the Avengers Compound, doused head to toe in sweat. Moving the time machine by himself had been an absolute nightmare, and he was sure that he’d pulled a muscle in his back heaving it out the back of his car and down the stairs to the workshop. Maybe he’d pinched a nerve in his arm, too, though that wouldn’t explain the numbness he’d been experiencing off and on for months. _Nice try._ Wrenching open the freezer, Tony dug around past cartons of ice cream and popsicles to grab an ice pack, reaching around to press it to his lower back with a slight groan, resting his forehead against the cool stainless steel of the fridge.

“Huh, guess you _are_ getting old. Is it strained from all the responsibility you said fuck you to this weekend?”

Tony jumped forward when he heard Rhodey’s voice, his forehead striking the fridge hard. With watering eyes, he turned around to face the other man, moving the ice pack to his forehead and his free hand to his chest.

“Jesus, you’re gonna give me a heart attack!” He did crack a grin, though, when he saw that Rhodey was standing in front of him, balancing expertly on the cane that he soon wouldn’t need. “I didn’t know that you were…”

“Coming home?” Rhodey’s eyes narrowed, not returning Tony’s smile. “Yeah, I’ve been calling you since Thursday. So much for taking a shower and a nap and coming back. You know how terrifying it was having Vision drive a car to pick me up? He kept phasing through the roof, saying that his way was faster. He’d never driven before.”

Tony’s smile widened, though it was a tad sheepish. “Really? Did he do that consciously or just one minute he was there and the next minute he was halfway through the roof?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I was too busy lunging over to grab the steering wheel to keep us from careening off the road. I thought you said you were going to pick me up.”

“Did I?” Tony didn’t remember ever promising anything, but he might’ve opened his mouth and agreed to anything at that stage of sleep deprivation. “Why didn’t you call Pepper?”

“I did, but she was in D.C. She’s coming back today – but seriously, you’re an asshole.”

“C’mon, Rhodey…” Tony sighed, forehead comfortably numb from the ice pack, which he reapplied to his twinging back. “Alright, you got me, I’m sorry. It was a really shitty thing to do, but I’ve been… Well, I got… Ross – Ross ordered me to do some work on… Intel work, really, reconnaissance, whatever. Not Nat’s type of spying, but I tried – I was missing the all black jumpsuit, which is a shame because I’m sure it’d do wonders for my ass… He sort of put me in a position in which I couldn’t say no.”

“You’ve talked to Ross?” Rhodey’s anger faded away, replaced with concern and fascination. “What intel does he have you getting? Stuff about Steve or…?”

Tony glanced at his watch, and then back at Rhodey. This was bad; he had been expecting the compound to be empty. Climbing into the “tanning bed” would have been easier if the compound was empty, he didn’t want to think about how he was effectively erasing Vision from existence completely, or how he would never get to say goodbye to Rhodey. He had to follow through with it though, he had to climb down those stairs, lie down, attach the wires, and protect the future for the people he cared about – and the future of those that he didn’t care about. _You can’t wimp out just because Rhodey’s home, looking at you with those big brown eyes. Don’t do it._

“Look, I have to submit this report to him today.” _White lie, no big deal._ “Give me an hour to read it over one last time and send it to him, and then I’ll come back up here and fill you in.”

Rhodey sighed, leaning against the granite counter of the kitchen island, meeting Tony’s gaze evenly. “Fine, an hour.”

Tony gave him another smile, though this one was pained, and he broke Rhodey’s gaze almost immediately. Patting the other man on the back as he passed him, Tony gritted his teeth – this was a shitty goodbye for his best friend. James Rhodes had always been there for him, had always believed in him even when everyone else, including Tony himself, didn’t… and he didn’t know how to say a heartfelt goodbye without tipping Rhodey off that he was up to something.

“Take a load off, sugarplum. Crack open a beer, warm up the Playstation. I’ll be right back.” Tony looked over his shoulder at Rhodey once he reached the top of the stairs, sighing slightly to himself. _Thanks for everything, Rhodey. Sorry I’m such a shitty friend._

Once the door to the workshop slid shut behind him, Tony set aside the ice pack and gingerly touched the lump that was forming on his forehead.

“Alright, FRIDAY. Here we go. The moment we’ve all been waiting for. I’d ask for a drumroll, but it’s going to take me a couple of minutes to get the electrodes on.” Tony knelt down in front of the gurney, pulling out a crumpled receipt from his pocket. On the back of it, written in smudged ink, was the equation he needed to input on the screen that would get him back to the correct time – and dimension. He’d finalized it after a few scoops of gelato, and a part of the equation was stained from where he had spilled some. Squinting, Tony typed the figures in to the screen that rested just below the lid of the machine. His finger shook slightly as it hovered over the enter button, and he shivered as he remembered the chill of Siberia – a deep cold that penetrated his suit and settled into his bones. _How cold was it, that night? Did she even feel the cold or was she too distracted by Dad getting his brains beaten out? She always hated the cold…_ James Barnes’ metal fingers had probably been freezing and unyielding against Maria Stark’s throat. Pushing the lid back, Tony shook his head, he had to focus on anything but that – he had to be in the right mindset for this… Tony peeled off his shirt and his socks before lying down, applying the sticky electrodes to the soles of his feet, all over his chest, a few decorated his neck, and the remaining stickers were applied to the shaved spots on his scalp. The machine hummed around him, reminiscent of an MRI, all he had to do now was close the lid… Sitting up, Tony reached out for the cool metal edge of the lid, and his gaze fell on the brightly painted, circular shield sitting in the corner of the workshop. From any other angle in the room, he wouldn’t have seen it, but sitting there, he found himself unable to look away. The shield had crushed the arc reactor in his suit effortlessly, applying immense pressure to the weakest part of his chest, until he couldn’t breathe, but Steve had not meant for the shield to land on Tony’s chest. No, initially there had been another target entirely… _Don’t do this. The headaches are awful, you’re not going to go back to that point, so there’s no reason for you to do this._ Tony peeled an electrode away from his throat, running his fingers over the stubbled skin slowly, fingertips dipping almost imperceptibly as they ran over the rough texture of a scar he’d gotten in the early days of Iron Man. How would the edge of Captain America’s shield, expertly and lovingly smoothed by hand by Howard Stark, feel against his throat? _I have to know._

Tony began to pull away the other stickers, carefully sticking them to the inside of the machine before pulling himself out of it, grabbing his shirt from where it sat crumpled on the floor. “Save that drumroll for a few more minutes, FRIDAY. I guess I’ve got time for a dying impulse.”

* * *

“Pepper, this is a nice surprise.” Rhodey grinned at the redhead as she took a seat in front of the kitchen counter. “Can I get you anything, coffee or tea? We haven’t played host for anyone for months, so sorry if I’m a little rusty.”

Pepper returned his smile, though hers was tired, exhausted from the few days she’d spent in D.C. “Tea please, if you’ve got any. You’re a sight for sore eyes, after two days with all of those bumbling bureaucrats, I could use a dash of James Rhodes’ famous hospitality. You look fantastic, by the way, how do you feel?”

“It was that bad, huh? I guess I’m used to bureaucracy, years of experience really deafens you to it. You’ll be happy to know that I don’t think he’s touched your tea supply.” Rhodey was right, pulling out two boxes of tea that had been collecting dust ever since Tony and Pepper had broken up. Tony had brushed Rhodey off when he’d asked about it, mumbling something about Vision liking tea, even though the android didn’t eat or drink. Flicking on the kettle, Rhodey turned and rested against the counter so that he could face her. His cane leaned up against the cabinet; it was nice to be without it for a few minutes. “I’m doing great, actually. No complications, not too much pain – and that’s being managed. I’m building my muscle strength back up, and physical therapy is an absolute nightmare but I always feel better afterwards. I can’t wait to drive a car again, I’ve been craving a really good milkshake.”

“Just like Tony and his cheeseburgers,” Pepper laughed softly, taking off her heels, she’d not had the time to change after her flight, wanting to get to the compound as soon as possible. “I’m sorry I couldn’t cancel so that I could pick you up, did you make it back okay?”

“Well, Tony blew me off, so I got to experience a death-defying car ride with Vision as my chauffer. I don’t recommend it.”

It was time for Pepper to acknowledge the elephant in the room, or rather, in the workshop down below. “He blew you off? That’s not…”

“Like him, I know. He’s been busy with work, he said.” Rhodey shrugged, picking up the mug he’d selected for her tea, inspecting the brightly painted ceramic. “I thought maybe he’d be in higher spirits after my surgery, but he seems to just be free falling to rock bottom. He’s here, if you want to see him. Working on something in the ‘shop, like usual.” The kettle clicked, and Rhodey busied himself with making her tea. “You don’t have to pretend that it’s not the real reason you came, Pep.” Rhodey was joking as he stirred her tea, but he knew that she would probably end up wandering down to the workshop to check on her ex. “I gave him an hour to finish up whatever he’s working on. You can go down earlier if you want, we both know he won’t mind.”

“He might actually,” Pepper sighed, smiling gratefully at Rhodey as he handed the cup to her, wrapping her hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth against her palms. “He was very… jumpy, at the hospital, when we talked. I don’t know if you could call it talking, really, the conversation didn’t last too long before he ran away. I miss him a lot… I know you don’t want to hear me blabbering about this, but I really did visit to see you, not him…”

Rhodey shook his head, taking a seat beside her after a few struggling steps towards the counter. “No way for you two to just get back together? I mean, having to see you make out all the time was getting a little old, but now that it’s not happening, there’s nothing to give him a hard time about. Except his drinking, which has gotten worse – he denies it though. I think a visit from you would at least stabilize him… and I’m not suggesting that you have to become his permanent caretaker or anything, but I do think that you two getting back together would do wonders for him. Hell, Pep, you changed him – and now he’s struggling to be that man without you.”

“I’ve considered it, the break up’s been hard on me too. It’s difficult, being away from someone you love – especially when you know that that person loves just as much as you love them. It seems incredibly stupid and masochistic but… he went back to obsessing about his suits – and at some point I had to consider my health and wellbeing, too. Maybe you both think I was being selfish, but -.”

“Pepper Potts, selfish?” Rhodey raised his eyebrows, reaching out to rest his hand on her arm. “No, I’ve never thought that in my life. You think I’ve not done the same thing? Being friends with Tony is draining, I can’t imagine how it is being in a relationship with him. I just think that the world is a better place with you both together.”

Pepper remained quiet, sipping at her tea, glancing at the digital clock on the oven. “His hour’s almost up, I’ll check in on him… just to make sure you’ve not inflated his ego to record breaking highs raving about the success of the surgery, though it’s definitely worth raving about. You know how he is…”

* * *

Tony barely had time to revel in the image of James Barnes sprawled across the ground, a mess of blood and sparking wires, before he was thrown against the opposite wall by a blur of red, white, and blue. _Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. That hand strangled her, now it’s gone._ Tony would’ve done much worse to the other man had Steve Rogers not intervened – Maria Stark was gone because of him, not because of the goddamn light pole that Tony had visited twice in his life before having it cut down and replaced by a pole that was further off the road. He did not even want to think of all the drunk driving seminars he’d attended as a speaker – all those people he had lied to unknowingly. There were no Assassins Killing Parents seminars to attend, and Tony wanted to make sure that there would never have to be – how many orphans were out there due to the actions of the Winter Soldier? And Steve Rogers, righteous Captain America, had the _audacity_ to defend him, to choose his side, to call himself Tony’s friend and then betray him by withholding the truth behind an event that had tortured him his whole life.

Tony and Steve had even celebrated Howard Stark’s birthday that past year – it had been a quiet affair. Steve had walked into Tony’s bedroom to ask him about something shield related – he wanted to get rid of the shield retrieval magnet on his wrist, it was too bulky for him to work with – only to find Tony sat on his bed nursing a bottle of whiskey. Instead of turning around and leaving Tony to it, he sat down next to him, and they spent the rest of the night reminiscing – Steve also eased him off the booze. It had actually been nice, hearing someone else’s good memories of his father, despite the hint of jealousy that he had felt knowing that Steve had never once been shouted at or hit by Howard Stark. _War changes people_ had been Steve’s murmured response when Tony had opened up to him about his relationship with his father. Though it was no excuse for how Howard had behaved towards his family, Tony had fallen asleep at peace knowing that perhaps the man Maria Stark had fallen in love with had existed at some point in the past. But that night would have been the perfect time for Steve to tell him the truth about his parents’ death. He had comforted Tony while he was grieving, he had cheered him up with amusing stories about Howard Stark’s European adventures, and he had allowed him to continue believing that Howard Stark and his alcoholism had been the causes of his mother’s death.

Once his suit struck the hard cement wall, Tony’s head was thrown forward inside the helmet, his nose crunching against the flashing screen of the HUD. Hot blood streamed down his face and into his mouth, making him gag at the taste of iron. His nose swelled almost instantaneously, painfully pressing against the inside of the helmet, making Tony’s eyes water. Despite his blurry vision, he was still able to see Steve Rogers’ face displayed across the HUD, waxy with rage, his eyes dark with what Tony could only describe as hatred. The shield Howard Stark had skillfully crafted smashed into the left and right sides of his head, over and over again, until Tony’s ears rang and metal shards were turned inward in the helmet from the force of Steve’s blows. Tony didn’t cry out as a shard cut deep into his temple, the left side of his face now awash with crimson to match his aching nose.

“You’re no match for him in hand to hand combat!” FRIDAY’s voice sounded garbled and frantic – and when he heard Pepper’s horrified scream in his ears, Tony for a moment worried about brain damage. _Pepper’s not here to save you this time, God I wish she was here._ Tony was slumped against the wall, doing nothing to evade Steve’s blows – he didn’t have an option, Steve’s hand was holding him in place with a force unmatchable by a man in a can.

“Analyze his fight patterns.” Tony’s eyes narrowed at the image of his childhood idol, his hero, his role model – now his nightmare, potentially even his death. When fight or flight kicked in, Tony always picked fight – he was not going to die here, in the freezing cold all by himself. He was going to incapacitate Steve and call in Ross’ team – that is what the Secretary of State wanted, after all – Steve Rogers, a fugitive brought to justice. The HUD lit up as the AI scanned over Steve’s body, documenting every movement, down to each blink of his eyes.

“Counter measures ready!”

Tony’s gauntleted hand rose and caught the shield mid swing, fingers gripping with a force to match Captain America’s.

“Let’s kick his ass.” Tony blasted the shield out of Steve’s grip, hearing it clatter to the floor, catching a glimpse of Steve’s surprised expression that didn’t fade even as Tony blasted him to the ground. The blast mark steamed on Steve’s abdomen, the filtration system of the suit blocking the scent of burned flesh that would’ve been strong enough to make Tony vomit. Proving the merit of all of the stories told about him, Captain America didn’t even groan, getting to his feet almost instantly and lunging out to punch Tony away. Tony would’ve laughed if he’d had the time, blocking Steve’s punches easily before sending another blast to the man’s middle. Steve fell to his knees, and Tony raised his hand threateningly, repulsors whining.

For all his anger, Tony didn’t want to kill Steve – there was something in him that was unable to. Perhaps it was the toddler who had collected Captain America comics, or the teenager who had decorated his dorm at MIT with a Captain America poster despite Rhodey’s snickering, or perhaps it was the adult who had looked to Steve Rogers as a leader and a friend – someone whose orders could be trusted and relied upon even when Tony doubted him. He could beat Steve bloody, that was true – but he could not give the killing blow.

“I’m sorry, Tony -.” _There, now we’re getting somewhere. Sorry I had to punch you a few times, but at least you’ve seen reason. And you’re sorry that you lied to me, fair exchange. We can recover from this, Steve, no problem._ “But he’s my friend.”

The battered red and gold helmet tilted to the side as Tony stared down in disbelief at the man kneeling before him. They could not recover from this. Steve had lied about the death of his parents, had he lied about being his friend, too? The distaste Steve had felt towards him when they had first met was still fresh in Tony’s mind, perhaps that distaste had only been masked over time, only because Steve could not resist following orders – orders that involved working with Tony, getting close to him, learning his weaknesses… only to destroy him with four words.

“So was I.” Tony spat the words out like venom, hand clenching into a fist, which he slammed into Steve’s strong jaw. Steve’s head jerked to the side, only to be thrown to the other with Tony’s next jab, mirroring how Tony had reacted to the shield’s blows. Steve sunk onto his hands, coughing up vibrant blood onto the grey floor. Tony felt no remorse, grabbing Steve by the crossed straps used to hold the shield on his back, throwing him into the pillars behind him, hearing them crack under Steve’s weight.

“Stay down, final warning.” Tony’s voice was robotic, as metallic as the blood in his mouth and his eyes, his hand raised again. This time, he was ready to offer a blow that wasn’t deadly, but perhaps mortally wounding if not seen to soon. The disbelief he had felt at Steve’s endurance did not return as the supersoldier struggled to his feet, grasping onto one of the pillars while his legs shook. Captain America was not one to give up, that was common knowledge, but neither was Iron Man. Two unstoppable forces were about to collide, and Tony had a feeling that the result would be catastrophic – but this intuition did not stop him from raising his gauntlet in warning, consequences be damned.

“I can do this all day.” The tongue-in-cheek reply was enough to make Tony see red, even more so than he was already. The suit was on, he was ready to go a few rounds – he’d prove his worth to Captain America, he’d make the other man regret lying to him, he’d make him regret choosing the past over the present. The repulsor blast struck the pillar as Tony’s leg was nearly wrenched out from under him by Barnes, and he turned his back to Steve to kick the other man fiercely in the face, hoping that he’d broken his nose and maybe some teeth, too. His stomach dropped as he was heaved into the air, twisting in Steve’s grip in an attempt to break free – his boots hummed to life weakly, ready to propel him a few feet forward, but all that did was provide Steve with a boost to slam Tony into the ground, sparks flying from the suit. Tony had no time to recover, no time to sit up and take defensive action – Steve was straddling his waist, his gloved fists slamming into the helmet over and over again. There was only a moment’s pause as he reached to the left for his shield, Tony’s hands scrabbling as the vibranium slammed against the helmet. The gold titanium alloy he used was strong enough to stand a few dozen blows, but they had far surpassed that, and Steve showed no signs of stopping even as the HUD flickered to black and metal sliced Tony’s seemingly thin skin open. Cold air burned his lungs when the helmet was finally knocked aside, snowflakes gracefully landing on his bloody face, steaming into nothingness when they came into contact with the many deep gashes gifted to him by Steve Rogers.

There was no way to slow Captain America’s fall from grace, the pedestal that Tony had always placed him on was crumbling rapidly beneath him, until they were level – equals. Terror was evident in Tony’s wide, bloodshot brown eyes as he stared unblinkingly up at Steve. The set of Steve’s jaw was firm and steadfast, his blue eyes were cold with a readiness to kill that Tony had never seen before, his elusive “dark side” was finally revealed. _The man my father loved like a son is going to kill his actual son. How’s that for irony? If only Dad was alive to see this, he’d be happy with how it all turned out, in the end. His greatest mistake finally fixed by his greatest creation. Maybe I deserve this – a sticky, bloody end brought about by Dad’s favorite son. I egged Steve on, I hurt his best friend – he killed Mamma though, he deserved what was coming to him – maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to make the Avengers a better team, the world a better place… without me interfering. History has never found Captain America to be in the wrong, me, on the other hand…_ Tony’s hands stilled against the cold concrete, fists relaxing into open palms as he looked up at Steve, fear now replaced by weary resignation.

“Finish it.”

The faint sunlight glinted off of the shield as it was brought back behind Steve’s helmeted head, Tony caught sight of his own bloodied reflection for the briefest of moments before the shield swung down in a wide arc. _Hailmaryfullofgracethelordiswiththeeblessedartthouamongwomenandblessed –_ Tony’s frantic final thought was cut short as the dull edge of the shield slammed against his exposed neck. He let out a gurgled cry of pain, unable to breathe a final breath as his windpipe collapsed, Steve’s image blurred into fuzzy darkness. The second strike of the shield yielded a bright spray of blood, turning Captain America’s uniform a dark violet. The third and final blow of the shield brought about a frozen silence; punctured only by Steve’s uneven, ragged breaths and a dull clang as Tony Stark’s head rolled forward and struck his cast aside helmet.

Steve’s fingers went slack, allowing the shield to slip out of his grip and fall partway into the pool of blood that was forming at the grisly stump of Tony’s roughly severed neck.

“Tony?” Bewilderment saturated the lilt of his voice. Steve had spoken Tony’s name in contempt, in jest, in a multitude of tones – but never this horrified level of absolute confusion. He cocked his head to the side, glassy eyes following the rapidly congealing trail of blood that led to Tony’s head. He reached out for it, delicately turning Tony’s head in his hands so that he could look into his familiar eyes – but the man had closed his eyes moments before the second blow. Tony had done so not wanting to remember Steve as the grief and anger stricken man who was about to behead him – but rather as the man Howard Stark had always admired, the man that Tony admired. Tony died bearing no ill will towards Steve, instead feeling only immense sadness for what their friendship had degenerated into, mourning not for his own life, but for what could have been. Steve gently brushed a few stray strands of hair from Tony’s forehead, leaving behind thin lines of blood on tan skin. Steve’s shaking touch to Tony’s still warm cheek was similar to a lover’s caress, and when he spoke again, he struggled to choke back a sob. “Tony?”


	8. Chapter 8

The glasses were hurled violently against the whiteboard, the cracked lens finally shattering into small, jagged pieces of glass. Tony’s scalp smarted in response to the electrodes being ripped away from his skin without hesitation. His hands shook as utter rage consumed him, his heart pounded unsteadily against his chest, and cold sweat began to bead on his forehead. Leaping forward with a smooth grace that he did not normally possess, Tony pulled Captain America’s shield from its revered spot in the corner, bringing it down over and over again on the glasses, until the frame was a mass of broken pieces of plastic, glass, and torn thin wires. Only partially satisfied, Tony hurried back over to the desk, nearly losing his footing as stinging tears blurred his vision. Holding the shield in one hand, Tony wiped at his eyes angrily but that only brought on more tears, until they were streaming down his cheeks, a rough sob torn from his throat. His trembling fingers grasped the phone sent to him by Steve Rogers, and Tony didn’t bother clearing the top of the desk before he smashed the phone to pieces. The Stark Industries mug that was practically vintage was lost under the edge of the shield, as was the keyboard of the computer, and when he finally stopped swinging the shield; it was only because he couldn’t breathe.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice made his chest constrict tighter, and he turned to her, his face red and tearstained.

“I can’t, I can’t -.” Tony clutched at his chest, dropping the shield to the ground, kicking it away from him just before his knees went weak and he sunk to the floor. His hands covered his face as he sobbed into them, his fingernails digging sharply into his skin. Pepper’s bare feet struck against the cool surface of the floor as she jogged over to him, reaching her hands out to touch him but pausing just before making contact. She had experienced many of Tony’s nightmares and anxiety attacks after New York, though she’d never seen him cry like this – his sobs were deep, and he trembled so hard that the desk behind him shook, ceramic pieces of the mug clinked on its surface. Pepper settled down in front of him on her knees, gently reaching out to place her hand on his forearm.

“You’re okay, Tony, I’m here.” Pepper inched forward and slowly wrapped her arms around him, bringing him forward until his face was buried against her neck, his hands moving to clutch at her back instead of his face. Tony held on to her as if she was his life line, his only means of survival – he’d spent months wanting nothing more than to be in her arms, and now that he was, he could do nothing but cry harder. Pepper rocked him slowly in her arms, her hand smoothing down from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine, a repetitive motion that always aided in calming him down. She turned her head to press a kiss to his hair, his tears soaking into the fabric of her blouse, trickling down her neck in warm rivulets. “Sweetheart, you’re okay – I’m here, you’re safe.”

After several long minutes, Pepper breathed a sigh of relief when Tony’s sobs broke into hiccups and sniffles, his grasp on her back loosening a tiny fraction. She continued to stroke down his back, humming an old lullaby quietly. When Tony lifted his head away from her neck, she framed his face in her hands, thumbs gently brushing away a few stray tears. Tony’s eyes were glossy and bloodshot from crying, and when he met her steady gaze, she felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment against her palms.

“Don’t be sorry,” she murmured, heading him off before he could get a word in. “I’m just glad I came down when I did… What’s going on, Tony?”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as he caught his breath, the rage that he’d been bottling up for months finally fading away. “It’s a long story, Pep, you don’t want to hear it.”

“I do, Tony, I do want to hear it.” Her hands moved to unhook his arms from her waist, gently lacing her fingers between his calloused ones. “This isn’t fine, and even though I’ve always known your definition of the word to be different than textbook, I’m not going to let you bottle this up and try to brush it aside like nothing happened. This is too big to let that happen.”

Tony stared down at their clasped hands, ignoring the ache returning at his forehead – a combination of the lump from his knock with the fridge and a stress headache. “…I don’t know where to start.”

“How about with that?” Pepper cocked her head in the direction of the time machine, thinking that it would be easier for Tony to talk about his project first before they moved on to more difficult topics.

Tony’s laugh was humorless and hoarse, the machine was probably the hardest thing for him to explain – had she asked about the Accords, that would have been a breeze – Siberia, not as much of a breeze, but still better than telling her about his grand final plan. “That… That’s a time machine. It goes with the glasses, you’ve seen the glasses already.”

“A time mach - what glasses?” Pepper’s eyes traveled the end of the room, searching for the frame that she had often seen on Tony’s face towards the final days of their relationship, while he was frantically working on the finer details of the September Foundation. He pulled one hand from hers to point at a small pile of plastic waste under the whiteboard.

“They’re over there. I was – mad, so I just sort of… Anyways, it doesn’t matter what condition they’re in now. You **have** to promise me that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave the compound, Pep. I don’t want the press to insinuate that I’ve… lost it. My public image is already a steaming pile of shit.”

Pepper rubbed at his swollen knuckles slowly, meeting his eyes as she nodded. “Alright, I can do that in exchange for the full story.”

“Ever the businesswoman,” Tony forced a thin grin before it faded away and was replaced with an expression of deliberation. “… The glasses I used to explore different alternatives for my death – I’ve nearly died a bunch of times, actually, makes me think that my line of work might be a little bit dangerous… The glasses helped me make a pros and cons list for each death, so that I could settle on the one that would yield the best results. God, the look on your face, you think I’m a fucking nutjob. I might be – I don’t know, I took some hard blows to the head from Steve,” Tony barked a laugh, glancing at the shield that lay a few feet away. “I settled on New York – I was gonna get to call you this time, tell you everything that I wanted you to know then, that I still want you to know now… But I chickened out at the last minute with some bullshit excuse about the most recent near death experience that I didn’t bother to explore. That was Siberia, which I can’t explain now without explaining everything else. But I’ve been working on that machine for… Must be a year, now, it started with Bruce. Bringing about death wasn’t its purpose when we started, but somewhere along the way it was just me who was working on it, and you know how I like to be dramatic. God, my throat is killing me.” Tony rubbed at his weary eyes, an excuse to not have to look at Pepper’s paling face. _She thinks you’re absolutely nuts, donezo – she’s gonna call Rhodey and they are both going to have you thrown into some facility for cracked superheroes._

“About the time you and I… Took our break, I was meeting with Thaddeus Ross and the President. Ever since… Well, apparently, ever since I went public with Iron Man, and everything that resulted from that, there have been federal concerns about the autonomy of superheroes. Especially after what happened in New York, and then in Sokovia… I was trying to minimize governmental interference as best as I could, but you know that I’ve never been good with authority – especially bureaucratic authority.” Tony snuffled, rubbing at his nose this time, wishing his head didn’t feel so thick. His ears felt as though they were stuffed with cotton wool but at least his heart had finally slowed and steadied. “So, I’m sorry that I got so snippy with you and we fell apart, it’s just that – I don’t know, I’m shit at sharing what’s going on with me. I know that’s not healthy, but I also didn’t want you to get involved, they’ve already used you as a weakness against me anyways.”

“What do you mean?” Pepper’s eyes widened, wondering how exactly they had used her against him – the Secretary of State wasn’t legally capable of making threats to spur action… was he?

“We’ll get to that,” Tony cleared his throat, squeezing her hand gently. “Like I said, it’s a long story. After we broke up, you probably saw on the news what happened with Lagos… That was the straw that broke the camel’s back… it broke everyone else’s back, actually. The UN drafted a set of laws, called the Sokovia Accords, basically making the Avengers a governmental agency that could only act on orders. At that point, I lost all of my bargaining ability, and figured it was the best course of action for the future… the only course to take for the Avengers to survive long-term. Steve didn’t see it that way, neither did Wanda, or Clint, or Sam, or some little pissant named Scott Lang. Nat was on my side, at first, and then she wasn’t – now I think I won’t ever see her again… I deserve it, I was an ass to her, but I was under pressure with Rhodey – it doesn’t matter, I won’t ever get to apologize, she’s disappeared…” Tony forced the idea of never seeing Natasha Romanoff again out of his mind, he couldn’t handle the loss of a valuable friendship, Nat was a confidant, someone who _understood_ why he built walls and cowered behind them – they were his only method of survival. “…You remember when Steve would talk about his pre-Cap days, and he would bring up his best friend Barnes, who he thought died during the war? Well, turns out Hydra turned Barnes into an assassin, and have been deep-freezing him for years at a time, only defrosting him when they need to use him…He made an appearance in all of this, we thought, at the ratification of the Accords in Vienna – a bombing that killed the king of Wakanda. Steve was hell-bent on finding him, and there was nothing I could do to help – Ross gave me clear orders to bring Steve in. That was when the Avengers fell apart, and we started working on opposing teams… Turns out Barnes wasn’t responsible for that, it was some guy named Zemo – but that really doesn’t matter, Pep. None of it matters.”

Tony leaned his head back against the desk, looking up at the ceiling listlessly for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. _Woolgathering, Mamma always called it._

“Fast-forward to Siberia. After we caught and imprisoned the rest of Steve’s team, Barnes and Steve fled to Siberia to find this Zemo – apparently, Hydra had more than one Winter Solider – the name they gave their assassins – and Zemo was going to have control of them, or something. This is hazy even to me, I had enough probable cause in the end to believe Steve, but I still don’t really know the specifics. I went directly against Ross’ orders, and went to go help them out – I wish I hadn’t…” His stare at the ceiling intensified, unable to look at her now, not wanting to see pity or boredom in her gaze. “You’ve got all this, right? I don’t mind if you don’t, it’s all a blur to me… But, uh, I made it to Siberia, we found Zemo, and he showed us footage of… the night that my parents died. It turns out Dad wasn’t drunk after all… Falsified lab results, and I was too stupid to look into them further at the time.”

“Tony…” Pepper sighed, gently stroking the back of his hand as his voice became colorless, his eyes dulling in an effort to save himself from the pain that always came whenever he spoke of his parents.

“It was him. Barnes. He pummeled my dad’s head into a pulp, and made my mom watch, and then he strangled her. And he walked away, just like that. And you want to know the best part? Steve knew about it, he knew what really happened, and he didn’t tell me.” Tony’s voice broke, tears threatening to spill again, even as he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. “I lost my temper… More than that, Pep, I went completely fucking batshit. I wanted to kill Barnes, I wanted revenge – years of my life mourning my parents, I was finally processing my grief – and then it was transformed into something new entirely, something stronger, all consuming. I couldn’t think about anything except how Mamma died terrified, knowing that she was going to be killed, and she didn’t have a way to defend herself…” He couldn’t stop the tears, groaning as he turned his face away from her in humiliation. “He had a metal arm, Barnes – something Hydra installed, a prosthetic. I blasted it off; I would’ve blasted off his fucking head if Steve hadn’t… We fought, and he got the upper hand – it was hard, fighting two supersoldiers – I was never a match for Captain America, and he…” Tony drew in a sharp gasp of air, his hand shaking in hers. “He nearly took my head off, Pep – he was going to kill me, for hurting his friend, I was some monster to him. At the last second, he struck the arc reactor instead and left me in a dead suit in the middle of nowhere with his shield while he and Barnes skipped happily off to Wakanda or wherever they’re hiding. Meanwhile, I’ve been working on the time travel tech, dying a few times every week, and working on a report about Steve and the others for Ross. He said if I didn’t start working for him properly, he’d find a way to have you and Rhodey killed…” Tony didn’t fight when Pepper brought his head forward so that she could wipe away his fresh tears carefully. “It all could’ve been avoided if I died in New York, none of that would’ve happened… Steve would be running a ship-shape Avengers, people wouldn’t be dead… my hands wouldn’t be bloody anymore. It all made _sense._ ”

Pepper sat down properly on the ground in front of him, holding both of his hands loosely. “Tony, honey… I think you’re always going to have bloody hands being Iron Man. There will always be casualties in battle, and even though you don’t like the future that we have now… If you died in New York, we don’t definitively know what sort of future that would bring about. I’m trying very hard to be objective right now, and if you hadn’t just opened up to me, I would let myself be a little bit angry about your plan – I don’t want to live a life without you, Tony, and even if you did call me, the idea of your body just floating through space for the rest of time, all alone… burying an empty casket, never knowing if you were at peace…” It was Pepper’s turn to pause, to take a deep breath and forge ahead.

“This future is one you can work with, Tony, this is one you can shape. You prevent catastrophe from happening, you save more lives than you lose – you are helping to make the world a better place, even though it doesn’t seem that way from the position you’re in. You’re human, it’s only natural that you make mistakes – and you aren’t fully to blame for Ultron, you and I both know what happened to you that brought that about. You’re strong, Tony – you’ve taken some hard knocks from life, and you’ve always come out a better version of yourself. The same will happen here, and Rhodey and I will be here for you every step of the way. As for Ross… You _do_ still hold tremendous influence, Tony, the President remembers what you and Rhodey did for him. Play along with Ross’ orders, build your strength and charisma up again, and soon you’ll have more power than he does, more sway than he does – especially if you get the public back on your side. But please, honey, don’t do something so… there isn’t even a word for it – I can’t imagine losing you forever. If not for yourself, then live for me, and Rhodey, and Happy. I have such faith in you, sweetheart, I really do. Dying in the past is not the right way to fix things. Tinker with the present instead.”

_There goes Pepper Potts, saving my life again – what’s that, four times, five? How many more times is she going to have to do that?_

“I guess it’s a good thing that I wrote that report for Ross, just in case. He wants it by tomorrow…” The joke fell flat; Tony was struggling with mortar and stone, rebuilding his walls as quickly as he could before Pepper could see just how weak he truly was.

“You’re a smart guy, Tony, you don’t need me telling you that. I’m sure you’ll find a way to do what he tells you to do without actually having to do it. The world’s a big place, you’ll be able to come up with a bunch of leads – enough to keep you busy for a very long time.”

Tony nodded, if he wasn’t going to go back in time and erase himself from the future, then he was going to strive towards the future that Pepper Potts was crafting for him. “You know, Ms. Potts, you’ve got a sharp head on your shoulders.”

“So I’ve been told. It does come in handy running a Fortune 500 company.” Pepper smiled, Tony was beginning to look just the faintest trace of fine – he’d look better in the coming months, but this was promising. “I meant to ask you at the hospital, but you ran off before I could, not to mention the fact that you looked out of it…”

“Do I not look out of it now? I’m impressed with myself, I feel like I should look like the current holder of the hot mess title.” Tony’s smirk didn’t waver even as he gritted his teeth, ignoring the sudden jolt of pain in his chest.

Pepper surveyed him, eyes scanning over him from top to bottom. She noted his tired eyes, his tearstained cheeks, what looked like bald patches towards the back of his head, his bruised knuckles, his scarred skin, and nodded decisively. “You are definitely the champion of hot messes right now. A shower might help – but that’s not what I was going to ask -.”

“Damn.”

“I was wondering…if maybe you would like to get something to eat together sometime this week? My original question included us talking, but we’ve talked about the hard stuff. I won’t make you go through that again, at least not in public. I’m not shying away from the fact that I know that your mind is probably a really dark place right now, what you were planning on doing frightens the hell out of me, Tony. But, I figure you can do with a little bit of light in there – so I promise, no hard stuff, just breakfast and… catching up.”

Tony’s smile was genuine, his eyes lighting up as he leaned towards her. “Eating together sometime this week…” He tilted his head, looking at her with wide brown eyes, the fact that they were still glossy from tears made him suspect that she might just once succumb to the pitiful expression. “That sounds almost… like a _date_.”

“…Yes, Tony, I would be willing to call it a date. We’ve got a lot of stuff to work out, but I miss you, even when you’re being a teary-eyed smartass.” Pepper climbed to her feet, offering Tony her hand to pull him up onto still unsteady legs. “What about Monday for breakfast? We can celebrate you submitting the report, I know how much you love mimosas.”

“Monday sounds great – would you mind coming here, though? It’s not that I don’t want to be seen together, I always love showing you off. I just want something a little more… private. I’ll cook.”

“You’ll cook?” Pepper’s smile was radiant, and couple that with general muscle exhaustion, Tony’s knees almost buckled. “This sounds like it’s shaping up to be an unforgettable date, Mr. Stark.”

“I always aim to please, Ms. Potts.”

* * *

Pepper stuck around the compound longer than Tony expected her to, and he was pleasantly surprised when she cooked dinner for both him and Rhodey before she departed, even though he didn’t have much of an appetite – seeing his own head removed from his body was enough for him to swear off eating until Monday. Tony was all vague smiles throughout the afternoon and evening while she was visiting. Once he closed the front door behind her, he practically crumpled against the it, letting out a pent up exhalation, feeling like he was physically shrinking as the stress of playing totally-not-near-breakdown finally was blown away. His eyes drifted shut as he relaxed against the door, glad to have something holding him upright because he felt as though he was ready to collapse at any moment. Tony flexed his left hand, the pins-and-needles tingly feeling had returned to his arm, and while the sharp pains in his chest had subsided while he was talking and feebly joking around with two of the people he cared most about in the world, there was an occasional shock of pain that was enough to make him grimace. _I should probably think about going to the doctor’s about this. Don’t have an excuse to put it off anymore. I guess._ He opened his eyes when he felt like he had the strength to walk to the living room where Rhodey was sitting, and jumped slightly when he saw the other man standing across from him.

“Holy shit, what is it with you today? Showing off your legs and stealthy abilities, scaring the living daylights out of me…” Tony grumbled as he pushed himself off of the door, propelling himself a few long strides forward towards Rhodey.

“Pepper mentioned something very interesting about a time machine,” Rhodey said mildly, watching Tony as he moved past him in the direction of the living room. “She even mentioned some very wild plan about you using the time machine to die in an effort to change the present and the future. It all sounded very concerning, and apparently very hush-hush.”

Tony threw himself down on the leather couch in front of the crater, frowning deeply at it, now that he was sticking around he would need to get that fixed. His to-do list was definitely piling up. _Dying would be so much easier_. “Did she really? When did she have the time to talk about this without me overhearing?”

“You disappeared to the bathroom to wash your face, since you’d spent 20 minutes sobbing yourself to pieces.” Rhodey sat down beside him, picking up the controller to the Playstation and handing it to Tony before grabbing his own.

“Not to pieces, I didn’t break down completely.”

“That’s not what I heard… But, I’m giving you the opportunity to protect your self-described attitude of being as cool as a cucumber.”

Tony watched as Madden NFL began to load on the wide screen of the television – he had no interest in watching football in real life, but he and Rhodey took it very seriously when it came to the video game. Vision had already sought sanctuary in his bedroom, knowing how the two would soon be yelling at each other over the controllers.

“I definitely suffered some major fractures to the façade, but right now… all of my concentration is going to go into me kicking your – the Philadelphia Eagles’ ass. I will make you a genuine Tony Stark Promise, though.”

“The last time I received a genuine Tony Stark Promise, I ended up in the back of a police cruiser.”

“It wasn’t my fault that the sleeve of your jacket got caught on some barbed wire – and I had to run for cover anyways, because who would’ve bailed us out of jail? Your mom would’ve lost her goddamn mind, I didn’t want to put her through that.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes, selecting the Eagles as his team, waiting for Tony to fiddle with the settings like he always did before starting the game. “Oh, right, I’m sure you ran away because you were thinking of my mother, not because you pissed your pants.”

Tony flushed, punching Rhodey’s arm and starting the game without warning, which earned him a muttered objection. “Still bailed you out, didn’t I? Had your record expunged and everything. Though that Tony Stark Promise fell through in a manner that was out of my control, I swear that this one won’t. I promise you that tomorrow morning, I’ll tell you everything over breakfast. Pepper got a really jumbled version, I had to fill her in on everything that’s happened in the months that we’ve been… But you won’t have that problem, we’ll be done before you finish your toast, promise. But you… have to promise me that you’re not gonna look at me like I’m nuts or have me thrown into the psychiatric facility they were planning on sending Barnes to.”

Rhodey met his gaze, judging the sincerity of Tony’s words before somewhat nodding. “Fine, tomorrow morning, without me calling the cops. What are you gonna do with it? The time machine, I mean. Does it work?”

Tony watched as the ball was kicked off, hunching over and focusing on the television. “Shh, ass-kicking time. Maybe I’ll just use it to keep going back in time to relive the moment when you lost bitterly to Tony Stark and his New York Jets.” Tony watched in horror as his receiver fumbled the ball, Rhodey’s player scored a touchdown without resistance, and smarmy satisfaction was dripping from Rhodey.

“You were saying?”

* * *

Tony’s voice was grating by the time he staggered into his bedroom, more than ready to fall face first onto the mattress. It was nearly three in the morning, and Rhodey had bested him in three out of the five games they had played, with each loser insisting on a rematch until Tony had drifted off mid-play and dropped his controller down the crater. Finally in his bedroom, Tony shirked his socks and shirt, crawling under the covers and praying for peaceful sleep in his last few moments of consciousness.

_Tony squinted his eyes in reaction to the bright sunlight, hearing waves crash soothingly against the shore. He’d made a conscious decision after Afghanistan to never visit a beach again, but this beach was not like those that he left behind in Malibu – no, this beach felt tropical, and when he lifted his head to look down at himself, his eyes fixed on a ring glinting on his left hand. He’d made a conscious decision not to do that either, he’d decided as a teenager that marriage was for suckers – his parents’ marriage was his main example – Aunt Peggy’s was the exception that proved the rule. But here he was, lying on a beach, married. Rolling over on his side, he grinned widely as he saw who was sunbathing beside him. Big sunglasses protected Pepper Potts’ green eyes, and she turned her head to look at him when she sensed his movement._

_“Your nose is bright red, Rudolph. Did you really put sunscreen on?”_

_“Cross my heart and hope to die, Pep. You’re pinking up yourself, think you need some reapplication.”_

Rhodey jolted awake when FRIDAY spoke loudly from the speaker installed in the ceiling of his bedroom, rubbing at his bleary eyes before looking over at the clock.

“Jesus, FRIDAY, it’s nearly five i-.”

“Colonel Rhodes, I’m sorry to wake you, but Mr. Stark is experiencing a potentially fatal arrhythmia. His heart stopped beating twenty three seconds ago, I’ve already alerted the authorities.”

Rhodey sprung out of bed, managing an unbalanced sprint to Tony’s bedroom, pain roared up and down his healing legs and intensified to burning agony when he came to a screeching halt in front of Tony’s bed. Rhodey stared blankly at the motionless lump under the sheets – _this can’t be happening, not Tony._ His eyes widened as terror began to consume him, the fabric of the sheets ripping from the force of Rhodey tearing them off of the other man.

_“It’s not just your nose, Tony, you’re red all over. So much for sunscreen.”_

_“I enjoyed putting it on you so much, I might’ve forgotten to put more than half a squeeze on myself, you caught me.”_

_Pepper sat up, reaching over for where the sunscreen bottle was nestled in the cool sand under their beach umbrella, Tony’s eyes fixed on the sizeable diamond ring she was wearing and he couldn’t help but grin cheerfully – they were married, and he didn’t feel like much of a sucker after all._

_“It’s my turn to slather you up in sunscreen.” She pushed him back down onto his towel and settled down on his hips, squeezing cold cream into her hands before rubbing it into his chest with a sly smirk._

_Tony shuddered at her touch, trying to squirm away, “You could’ve at least warmed it up first.”_

Rhodey wrenched Tony’s shoulder, forcing him to switch from lying on his side to lying on his back. His shaking fingers pressed to Tony’s neck, not feeling the usual healthy jump of a pulse against his fingertips. “Oh, Jesus, Tony.” He leapt up onto the bed and straddled the other man’s waist, beginning chest compressions while his eyes scanned over Tony’s face for any sign of life. “Don’t do this to me Tony, not in your sleep – not like this.”

_Pepper was rubbing sunscreen onto his chest, Tony shifted slightly, her touch was gentle over the scars left behind from the arc reactor._

_“You’re gonna need a lot of aloe, Tony, we should probably go inside soon.”_

_“Ooh, you slathering me up in sticky, cold aloe vera… that could turn kinky very quickly.”_

_Pepper playfully slapped his chest, which earned her a hiss as his burned skin smarted. “Oops. Let that be a lesson to use sunscreen next time, or you’ll have as many freckles as I do. Or skin cancer.”_

_“Skin cancer? That’s not as romantic as me being naked and you rubbing aloe on me. How did I get so lucky to have such a sensible woman as my wife?”_

_“Believe me, when you do stupid things like this, I ask myself the same question.”_

_“C’mon, you know you love me.” Tony smirked up at her, reaching to pull her sunglasses off so that he could meet her gaze. “I’m irresistible, burned flesh and all.”_

_Pepper leaned down to kiss him, shading Tony by blotting out the bright sunlight. “You’re right, I do love you – but you’re going to miserable with a sunburn this bad.”_

_She sat upright to continue her task, which was proving to be a large one now that she could survey the damage properly without her sunglasses. Tony glanced up at the sun, finding that staring at it didn’t hurt his eyes at all, and even as the light overwhelmed him and obscured his vision, he smiled._

_“I won’t be miserable. I’m with you.”_

“Colonel Rhodes, Mr. Stark is dead-.”

“No!” Rhodey shouted, blinking sweat out of his eyes as he continued to pump Tony’s chest, willing life back into the man. “Tony! I know you can hear me, you bastard, you’re not going to die – you can’t!”

When the paramedics finally arrived and pulled Rhodey away from the corpse, he struggled wildly in their arms, his wearied legs giving away beneath him. Tony’s body was limp as he was lifted onto a stretcher; cloying realization began to set in. Rhodey failed to fight back against the overwhelming urge to vomit, held up on his feet by the paramedics as he retched. He struggled even after heaving in their arms, feet scrabbling against the now slick floor, trying to follow the stretcher that was being rolled out of the room. Rhodey reached out for Tony, not wanting to let his best friend be loaded up into a sterile, lifeless, alien ambulance that screamed the opposite of Tony Stark. He sobbed when his hand brushed against cool skin, it possessed none of the warmth that Tony had spent his life breathing into everyone else around him. “You promised, Tones,” Rhodey choked out between shuddering sobs. “You promised.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was always going to end like this... the perfect ending, no? Hope you enjoyed it, I certainly enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading, commenting, and kudosing -- it always made my day!


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